


After The Rage

by felineranger



Category: Red Dwarf
Genre: Angst, Het and Slash, Multi, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-13
Updated: 2011-07-28
Packaged: 2017-10-21 08:44:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 23,899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/223257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/felineranger/pseuds/felineranger
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>At the end of 'Last Human' it seemed like the Dwarfers story was over.  But is there really any such thing as happily ever after?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I started writing this back in 2006 and am hoping that posting will give me the motivation to complete it. 'Last Human' is my favourite of the novels because I feel it's the one that focuses the most on the character's relationships and emotions rather than laughs. Most of the slash fics I'd read based around it inevitably had Lister and McGruder trying to work out their respective Rimmer issues together, but seemed to either forget or ignore the little ray of hope at the end of the novel that Rimmer could possibly be resurrected. There was too much to play with so I had to go there...And here it is.

            Michael R McGruder sat in the doorway of his cabin, watching the young Listers playing football.  Their mother, Kristine, sat on the steps of the cabin opposite.  Occasionally their eyes met and they would share a slightly sad smile.  The children’s father was, not unusually, nowhere to be seen. 

            Michael liked being around the kids.  They were sweet and funny; and like their father in so many ways.  Michael’s own father was most probably in his own cabin doing some reading right now.  They’d never played football together.  In fact, they’d never done much of anything together.  Michael’s father was...well, a git basically.

            It had been hard to accept, especially as he’d spent his whole life idolising the man, but Mike had slowly come to terms with the fact that his father was never going to be the person he wanted.  What kept him going was the knowledge that while Arnold Rimmer was a git, and always would be, he _wasn’t_ a bastard.  He had proved that when he had sacrificed his life attempting to save not only his son, but his crewmates as well from certain death.  Luckily the sacrifice had not been permanent.  After weeks of searching, the Cat had finally unearthed the small battered light bee, and with Kryten’s skill and the help of the GELF’s antidote disk, Arnold Rimmer had been resurrected, once more, from the dead.

The short period of bereavement had taught Mike to accept his father for the man he was.  They now had an affectionate, if slightly distant, relationship.  Rimmer didn’t know how to be a father, and certainly not to a man who was effectively only a few years younger than him.  But he cared, and that was enough.    

            Right now, Michael wasn’t thinking about his father.  He was thinking about somebody else.  Someone who very, very rarely left his thoughts these days.  Michael was thinking about the man who was, technically speaking, his best friend.  And also - technically speaking - his father’s.

            Dave Lister had swept into Michael’s life in a whirlwind of unexpected chaos; bringing him hope, friendship and the father he’d always wanted.  Michael had liked him at once, and not just because of the link to his father.  It hadn’t taken them long to forge a solid friendship, which had deepened after they thought they had lost Rimmer.

            Michael would always remember the evening he had found Lister wandering outside the caverns where they knew Rimmer’s light bee had fallen.  The others had given up for the night hours before, but Lister had been determined to stay and keep searching.  Eventually, an anxious Kriss had asked Michael to go and bring him back.

            “Dave, it’s getting dark.  You should come back to camp.  Kryten’s made some food...”

“It’s got to be here somewhere, Mike,” he’d replied doggedly without even looking up, “It’s here, I know it.”

“There’s nothing else we can do tonight.  We’ll come back tomorrow, but you really need to rest.  You haven’t eaten all day and I _know_ you’re not sleeping well.” 

“I’m okay!”

“You’re _not_ okay!” Mike said fiercely, “You’re exhausted!  You need a decent meal and a good night’s sleep!  Are you going to make me drag you back?”

“I just want to find him!” Lister shouted back, “Why can’t you of all people understand that?  I just want to make everything all right!”

“And what if you can’t?” Michael said, “What if we never find him?”

“Don’t say that!”

“What if we find him and he’s beyond repair?”

“He won’t be!”

“You don’t know that, Dave!”

            “ _I_ _do!_ ” Lister yelled, “He’s going to be alright!  He has to be!  I’ve just got to find him and then everything will be okay again!  We’ve been through worse than this.  You’ll see.  It’ll all be okay.”

“Dave,” Michael walked over and grabbed him firmly by the shoulders, “You can’t always make everything okay.  You can’t always save everyone.”

“I can save him.  I know I can.”

“ _Will you listen to yourself!?_ ” Michael shook him, “I want him back too, godammit!  I want that more than anything!”

“ _Then help me!_ ”

“ _It won’t do any good!_ ” 

            Lister seemed to crumple under the force of Michael’s scream.  “It will.  It will,” he insisted in a tiny pleading voice.  “It has to.  I have to tell him I’m sorry.”  He broke down into tears.  “Sorry for what?” Michael asked with difficulty.

“For everything!” Lister sobbed, “For all the times we argued.  For all the times I said I hated him.  Because I didn’t!  I didn’t hate him, Mike!  And now he’s gone because of me!”

            Michael was taken aback.  The past few weeks all he’d been able to think about was how unfair it was that fate should first of all snatch away his dreams of the perfect father figure he’d cherished all his life, and then take away the man himself just as he was coming to terms with the reality.  He’d been mourning the father he’d never had.  It hadn’t occurred to him that Lister, in losing the person who’d been the only constant in his life for the past three million years, had lost something infinitely more.  However difficult the relationship had been, that still had to pull the rug out from under you.  And he’d been so wrapped up in himself that he hadn’t noticed that Lister was metaphorically still flat on his ass wondering what the hell had happened.

            “Not because of you,” Michael said sternly,

“Because of me,” Lister insisted, “Because I turned out to be a psycho in some other dimension.  Because they came here to rescue me.  Because I didn’t stop him.”

“You couldn’t have stopped him,” Michael said softly, “He did it because he wanted us to remember him for something good and noble.  He wanted to prove that he was a decent guy.  Not just a coward and a failure.  And that’s my fault, not yours.”  He felt tears start to slide down his own face as he said the words.

“I just want him back, Mike!  I just want to make it all alright!”  Lister half-collapsed, weeping, into Michael’s arms. 

            They sat down on the rocky ground and cried together for a while and when they had finally wandered back to camp together, arm in arm, the others hadn’t said a word; although Reketrebn had morphed into an indeterminate small, furry creature and crawled purring into Lister’s lap as soon as he’d sat down by the fireplace.  The GELF found some odd ways to comfort its master, but, unsurprisingly perhaps, they all seemed to work one way or another.  Lister stroked its head and smiled weakly, “Thanks, man.”

            A few weeks later, a triumphant yowl from the Cat brought them all running.  He had found the light bee and Kryten was positive that it could be repaired.  Whooping for joy, Lister and Mike had thrown their arms around each other and danced like fools.  “You see!” Lister had crowed, “I told you it would be okay!  I told you!”  And that, Michael mused, was Dave all over.  And that was why he loved him.

            He loved his unrelenting optimism, his constant determination to do the right thing; he loved his courage and loyalty; and most of all he loved the gorgeous brown-eyed intensity of the gaze that stopped his heart whenever it fell on him.

            But he couldn’t do anything about it.  After Rimmer had been reactivated, Dave had somehow...retreated.  Not just from Michael, but from them all.  He’d built a home with Kriss, had even had children with her, but as the years had gone by they’d pretty much given up any pretence of actually being a couple.  They still cared for each other, but Dave had been pulling at an invisible leash for a long time; and soon after the twins began walking and talking, Kriss had apparently felt it was time to let go.  These days Lister spent most of his time walking alone in the woods and further afield.  Some days Mike went with him, sometimes the Cat and Reketrebn came too, and he seemed happy to have them there.  But there was always something...missing.  Something that none of them could put a finger on.

            Mike didn’t often speak to Rimmer about personal things - they didn’t have a close enough relationship and Rimmer had never been comfortable with intimacy – but on a different day, as they sat on the sidelines watching Lister play football with his two sons, Michael had ventured to speak.  “Do you,” he had hesitated slightly before finishing the question, “Do you think he’s happy?”  Rimmer had known who he meant immediately; and like his son, he hesitated before answering.  “He’s got everything he’s ever wanted,” he replied guardedly, watching him frolic with the two young boys.

“But?” Michael pressed gently.  Rimmer just sighed heavily.  “You’re the person who knows him best,” Michael urged, “You must have some idea.”  Rimmer shook his head, “I don’t know, Michael.  All I know is...” Rimmer paused, thinking, “...He’s not... _bubbly_ anymore.  He never laughs.  He always seems so serious.  He never used to be like that.  Back in the old days on the ‘Dwarf you needed to use a sledgehammer before you could wipe that silly grin off his face.  But now...” Rimmer shrugged helplessly. 

            Mike looked back at Lister thoughtfully, “I just wish I could work out what it is that’s bothering him.  Then maybe we could do something about it.”

“Well, unless he decides he wants to talk about it you won’t get anything out of him,” Rimmer advised, “He’s always been good at keeping secrets.  It took me a whole month to find out where he’d hidden my revision timetable once.  He only buckled when I threatened to tear up his signed poster of Jim Bexley Speed.”

“So where was it?”

“At the bottom of his sock basket.  I decided to make a new one.”


	2. Chapter 2

            McGruder lay in bed that evening and thought hard about the discussion he’d had with his father.  He’d hit the nail on the head, he thought, when he’d observed that Lister never laughed anymore.  Such a small thing, such a tiny change, but it said a great deal about his friend’s state of mind.  And it was a little worrying.  How could he not have noticed before?  He settled back with his eyes closed, trying to pinpoint in his mind the last time he’d heard Dave laughing.  No matter how hard he thought, it always came back to the same thing.  That day, six years ago...

           

            The day they had brought Rimmer back, the six of them had crowded into the mid-section with bated breath.  Nobody had spoken as Kryten hooked up the repaired light-bee to the mainframe and started to run the antidote virus through it.  They had watched without a word as the green bar on the monitor had filled up inch by inch, taking what felt like a lifetime.  Then, finally, there had been that one soft beep as the program completed and a white pillar of light had appeared in the middle of the floor, with Rimmer’s outline slowly taking form within it.

            They knew, even at this stage, that they were not out of the woods yet.  It was still possible that there was some problem they had overlooked which could make the program crash at the last moment.  They could start him up and find his personality permanently warped, his image fatally corrupted; literally _anything_ could have gone wrong. 

            Lister had stood with Kristine on one side of him, and Michael on the other, holding tight to both their hands.  They didn’t dare look at each other - seeing the others anxiety would only heighten their own – and kept their eyes fixed on the Rimmer-light, a silent prayer running through each head.

            At last, the light faded, and Arnold Judas Rimmer stood there in all his anal retentive glory.  He looked pale and slightly dazed as if he’d suffered a nasty concussion and was wondering what had happened, but other than that he seemed okay.  “Rimmer?” Lister ventured tremulously, “Are you okay, man?”  Rimmer looked down at himself, as if checking that he was all still there.  “What happened?” he asked weakly.  He sounded just the same.  Lister felt a relieved smile spreading across his face, “You saved us,” he said, his eyes welling up with joy, “That’s what happened, you smeghead!”

            He let go of Kriss and Mike and threw his arms around his bunkmate, laughing and crying at the same time.  Rimmer seemed somewhat startled by the warmth of this greeting and settled for patting Lister awkwardly on the back before moving him rather firmly away.  “You mean it worked?”

“It worked,” Lister confirmed, beaming.  Rimmer looked past him and saw Michael standing a little way away, smiling.  He didn’t know quite what to say.  ‘So, I guess your old dad’s not so useless after all,’ seemed petty and childish in the circumstances.  Fortunately, Michael stepped forward and spoke first.  “I behaved terribly to you, Sir,” he said humbly, “And for that I apologise.  It doesn’t matter what you did with your life, you’re still a great man.  And I’m proud that you’re my father.”  He stuck out his hand and Rimmer shook it numbly.  This was all so surreal.  Lister hugging him, Michael being proud of him, even the Cat grinning at him like he was pleased to see him; perhaps this was all a dream.

            “How long have I been out?” he asked.

“Just over a month, sir,” Kryten supplied, “Things have changed somewhat since you were last on-line.”

“That’s right!” Lister piped up.  He grabbed Rimmer’s hand and dragged him to the airlock, “Come and see!  You won’t believe it!” 

            They tumbled out into the fresh spring air and Rimmer looked around, astounded.  What had been a rocky wasteland had been transformed into lush meadows, stretching as far as the eye could see beneath a deep blue sky.  “It’s beautiful,” he said, awestruck.

“And it’s all thanks to you,” Lister beamed, squeezing his hand, “You’re a hero, Ace.”

“Yes,” Rimmer said slowly, as if coming to terms with the idea, “I suppose I am.”  The others appeared at the top of the gangplank and began to wander down to join them.  Rimmer dropped Lister’s hand and turned to face them, “So,” he said briskly, “I hope you’ve got started on building a decent settlement while I’ve been gone.”

            It had been perhaps too much to hope for, they realised after a few hours, that Rimmer could have become a wonderful person suddenly.  In reality he was as annoying and difficult as ever.  The difference, they felt, was that now he had _earned_ it; and was therefore entitled to be as unpleasant as he liked, so they didn’t mind it as much.  By the afternoon the two of them were squabbling as if he’d never been gone.  In a way, Lister’s emotional greeting had said it all.  Smeghead though he might be, he was _their_ smeghead; and they were happy to have him back.

           

            ...And that had been the last time he’d ever heard Dave laugh – that tear-streaked bubbling up of joy as he’d thrown his arms around his father.  But the more Michael thought about it, the more he felt that the change in Lister had really started the day they’d brought his father back to life.  And it occurred to him to wonder, despite Dave’s obviously heartfelt outburst that night by the caverns, whether he had ever got round to saying all those things to Rimmer after all.


	3. Chapter 3

            “I wish I knew,” Mike said to Lister a few days later, “Just what goes on in your head.”  Lister turned to him, his arms full of firewood and an expression of amusement on his face, “That’s a loaded statement.  Why?  What do you want to know?”  They were walking through the woods together, gathering fallen branches to dry out and had, until that point, been enjoying a comfortable silence. 

“I just never know what you’re thinking,” Mike complained.

“About what?”

“Well, anything.”

“Why should you?  I can’t read your mind but it doesn’t bother me,” Lister replied nonchalantly, returning to the search.

“You don’t give much away, do you?” Mike remarked.

“What’s to give away?  I haven’t got any interesting secrets.  You guys already know everything about me.”

“I mean I can’t _read_ you.  I never know what you’re feeling.”

“It’s easy, man,” Lister replied cheerfully, “If I’m getting on with life as usual then I’m probably okay.  If I’ve just punched you in the face, I’m probably not.”

            Mike couldn’t help but grin, “You wouldn’t punch me.  You know I’d take you to pieces.”

“Oh yeah, you and what army?  None of your sissy marine buddies around now, smeghead.  It’s just you and me.”  _The way I like it_ , Mike thought.

“Sissy?” he snorted, “You’ve been spending too much time with the old man.  You’ll be telling me my hair’s too long next.”

“Well, now you mention it...”

“Jeez, I’m sorry that my short back and sides aren’t up to your high standards.  It wasn’t so long ago you were the one with the long, sissy pigtails if I remember.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah…”

“I still can’t believe you cut them off, guy.  Those dreads were like a part of you, you know?  I’m still not quite used to seeing you without them.”

            Lister shrugged - a little awkwardly, Mike thought.  “It was just time.  They weren’t really practical anymore.”

“Were they ever?”

“They were always in my face when I was trying to do something.  I only kept them for as long as I did to bug Rimmer anyway.”

“That’s very sad.”

“I know.”

“Especially seeing as I think Dad kinda misses them.”

“ _What?_ ”

“He says it’s a lot harder to grab hold of you these days when you’ve done something wrong.  Nothing to hold onto.”  Lister snorted and shook his head,

“Now _that’s_ sad.”

            “It’s not like you two really fight anyway,” Mike said cautiously, “You seem pretty close these days.  If you ignore all the insults.”

“Yeah, well, we go back a long way,” Lister didn’t look at him as he said it.

“I know,” Mike replied, “And I know that you care a lot more about each other than either of you will ever admit.”

“You reckon?” Lister smiled.

“I _know_.  And so do you.”  Lister looked at him sideways,

 “You’re in a very weird mood today.  What’s with all the feelings?”

“I just think you should be more open, that’s all.  Get in touch with your emotions instead of hiding them all the time.”

“Ugh,” Lister pulled a face, “You’re so _American_ sometimes, man.” 

“Oh, yeah, I forgot you Brits don’t talk about this shit,” McGruder replied sarcastically.  “But you know I’m right.  It’s not good to bottle things up and hide them away.”  He winced internally at his own hypocrisy.

“Who’s bottling?  What are you talking about?  I’m fine!”

“I just get this feeling...”

“There’s that word again.”

“...That you’re unhappy about something,” Mike said firmly, ignoring the interruption.

            “Mike,” Lister turned to him and as always when they were face to face like this, McGruder had to fight the urge to lean over and kiss him.  Harder still was the fight to stop the want from showing in his face.  “I am as happy as can be.  Is there something _you_ would like to talk about?”  _Sure.  I’m madly in love with you.  How’s that for not bottling things up?  Let’s sit here and talk about that.  I’m sure we’ll both feel heaps better._ Mike opened his mouth and for the very briefest of seconds he thought he saw a look in Dave’s eyes, as if he knew very well what had just passed silently through Mike’s head.  “I’m fine,” he said with difficulty, “Just...You know you can always talk to me, right?” 

Lister gave him a warm smile, and the idea that he knew what Mike had been thinking suddenly seemed ludicrous.  “I know, man.  I know.” 

            Michael looked up at the indigo-blue sky.  The morning that had started out so crisp and misty had melted into an afternoon of blazing golden autumn sunshine.  He looked back at Lister, “You know what?  The hell with this, amigo.  Let’s go for a swim.  We can leave the wood here for a while and it’s not far to the lake.”  Lister raised an eyebrow,

“Last one in is a prostidroid’s mother?” he asked dryly.

“You said it, not me,” Mike replied sweetly.  He dropped his logpile and sprinted off through the trees.  Behind him he heard the thud of footsteps as Lister followed suit.  Pulling off his clothes as he broke free of the woods and stumbled onto the shore of the lake, he risked a glance behind him, tripped and fell flat on his face.  Dave dashed past him, dropped a pile of clothes on his head and dived into the water.  McGruder sat up, brushing underpants off his head as Lister resurfaced, grinning.  “Looks like West Point taught you speed, Lieutenant, but forgot to teach you any grace!”

“You got lucky!” McGruder yelled back, joining him in the water.  After the necessary splashing and ducking had been dealt with, they settled into lazy strokes through the cool clear water, enjoying the sunshine and each others company and finally climbed out, happy and refreshed.  They lay side by side on the long, silky green grass to let the warm heat of the sun dry their naked bodies.  It felt like mid-summer.  “I remember days like this back on Earth,” Lister said dreamily, his eyes closed, “Lying in the park with the sun on your face, not a care in the world.”  Mike rolled over and looked at him carefully,

“Do you still miss it?  Earth, I mean?”

“I don’t know,” Lister replied after a pause, “It was all so, so long ago, y’know?  Earth...Liverpool...It’s like a very vivid dream I once had.  Or memories of a past life.  I mean I was still just a kid really when I left.”

            Michael studied Dave’s still youthful face and remembered a conversation they’d had years ago, back when they’d first met.  Still smarting over the revelations about his father, Mike had walked off alone and Lister had followed him; eager as always to make things right. 

            _“So your Dad’s not an officer,” he said, “Big deal.  Not everything I told you was a lie.  He’s got a good heart,” Lister hesitated for barely a moment, “Somewhere in there.”_

 _“He’s no hero.”_

 _“Says who?  Do you know how long we’ve been surviving out in deep space on that tin can of a ship?  If I had time to tell you all the stories...all the things we’ve seen and done...Your father never fought off an army single-handed, Mike, but he’s done some smeg that nobody else in this universe has ever done.”_

 _“So have you,” Mike turned to look at him curiously, “How old **are** you? You look younger than me but how is that possible...?”  _

_Lister smiled wearily, “Best not to think too much on that one, man; not unless you’re really hot on advanced physics.  I’ll tell you if I ever work it out.  Let’s just say twenty-five, yeah?”_

 _“Twenty-five,” Mike repeated.  Yes, that seemed okay; that seemed to fit until you looked into his eyes.  And then you realised that those eyes had seen a **lot**._

 

            “It’s hard to remember the person I was back then,” Lister continued, “So much has changed.  Even thinking about those early days back on Red Dwarf – work, bars, discos, _people_ – sometimes it feels like trying to remember scenes from a movie you only ever saw once, a long time ago.  You remember bits and pieces and you know what happens in the end but...”  He trailed off sadly.  Mike thought about reaching over to touch his arm but Dave had already shrugged the sadness off, “It doesn’t really matter anymore.  We have a life here – a good life – that’s what matters.”

“Yeah,” Mike agreed softly.

            The sound of rustling foliage made them look up, shielding their eyes against the sun.  Rimmer emerged from the shade of the woods, “I thought I could hear you two somewhere close by,” he said triumphantly, as if he’d made a great discovery.

“Come for a dip?” Mike asked him.

“No, just for a read in the sunshine,” Rimmer produced a battered copy of _Great Military Campaigns Through The Ages_. 

“Don’t be daft,” Lister interjected with a knowing grin, “He hasn’t willingly removed his clothes in the great outdoors since the last eclipse of Saturn.”  Rimmer bristled, “We’re not all as averse to the civilised tradition of wearing clothes as you are, Lister,”  He turned to his son, “This is coming from a man who used to think ‘getting dressed’ meant putting on a pair of underpants and your boots.”  Michael ignored the familiar sound of their bickering and reached for the book, “This looks interesting,”

“Smegging hell,” Lister sighed, “Like father, like son.”

“Listy, when you finally get around to actually reading a book – any book – then you can criticise.”  Rimmer hesitated slightly before continuing, “Are you coming back tonight?”

“Yeah,” Lister said simply, “I was planning too.  We were going to bring home some firewood anyway.  The weather’s not going to stay like this for long, we ought to start storing up.”  Rimmer nodded and said nothing more.

            It was odd, McGruder thought, how they all tiptoed around the subject of Lister’s frequent shunning of company.  They all behaved outwardly as if it was perfectly normal and, as far as Mike knew, none of them - not even Kriss - had ever demanded an explanation of where or why he went on these solitary jaunts away from home; but every time they gathered around the fire or the dinner table with an empty chair the adults would exchange anxious glances and say absolutely nothing.  When Lister inevitably re-materialised sometime the next day, the kids would race to meet him, and he would pick them up and hug them and kiss them and listen to their excited chatter; and everyone else would simply act as if he’d never been away.

            “Listen,” Lister got up and stretched, “If you two are going to sit here discussing battle strategies I’m going to go for another swim.”

“Go on then,” Rimmer replied patronisingly, “Heaven forbid that you should actually _learn_ something.”  Lister smiled sweetly and went back down to the water.

“Goit,” Rimmer said without feeling.

“Don’t,” Michael said quietly, “At least he’s coming home tonight.”

“Should we be honoured?” Rimmer asked bitterly.

“Let it go, Dad.”  Michael started to pull his clothes back on.  The breeze had picked up now and it was carrying the change of seasons with it, despite the brightness of the sunshine.  “Well, I’m just saying,” Rimmer huffed.

“Maybe _you_ should speak to him.”

“He doesn’t listen to me,” Rimmer said stoically, “He never has.”

“Maybe,” Mike said very carefully, “Because he never thought you cared.” 

“He knows how I feel.”  There was a sharpness to the words that Mike hadn’t expected.  He watched his father watching Lister in the water and bit back the words that were on his lips.  _Does he?  Have you ever told him?  Do you really know how he feels about you?  Have the two of you ever really communicated **at all**?_

Lister climbed out of the water and came to join them, “Y’know, looking at the pair of you from a distance it’s almost like double vision,” he smiled.

“Almost,” Rimmer said without smiling back, “But not quite.  Put some clothes on for smeg’s sake and come home if you’re coming.”

“Okay, okay,” Lister soothed.  He caught Mike’s eye and looked skyward in mock despair.

“The old man’s right, you know,” Mike said, tossing him his boxers, “The sun’s gone in and you’ll catch a cold.”

“Like I said,” Lister sighed, “Like father, like son.”

 

 

 

 

 

          


	4. Chapter 4

            The three of them walked back to the settlement in a companionable silence.  Rimmer helped carry a share of the wood they’d gathered, his book balanced precariously on top.  Now and then Michael would flit a discreet glance at Lister, enjoying the way his shirt clung to his still slightly damp skin.  It seemed daft, especially as they’d just been naked in each others company, but he couldn’t help it.  Michael had had many lovers in his time, male and female, but he’d never obsessed over anyone this way before.  He’d never found anyone else so infuriatingly, effortlessly and obliviously erotic.  Perhaps it was _because_ he saw Dave naked fairly frequently that these little things affected him the way they did.  When they swam or sunbathed together he would allow himself the occasional leisurely look if the opportunity presented itself, but he made a point not to stare.  It seemed wrong to take advantage of the intimacy of their friendship - and anyway he didn’t want to be caught.  It seemed safer somehow to satisfy his voyeuristic desire when Dave was fully clothed.  He could drink in little details and let his memory fill in the rest.

            They were just coming into view of the farm when they spotted Kriss in the yard with Kryten and Cat.  The three of them were talking rapidly and even from a distance, they could tell she was upset.  When she finally turned and spotted them, she started running over and it was a measure of how fast she was going that Cat had difficulty keeping up.  “Is Bexley with you?” she demanded breathlessly.

“No,” Lister replied, “We haven’t seen him.”

“I can’t find him anywhere!  Jim doesn’t know where he is, and you know he never goes anywhere without his brother!”

“Okay, don’t panic,” Lister said calmly, setting down the firewood and taking Kriss’s hands, “When did you last see him?”

“About half an hour ago!”

“Well, he can’t have gone that far.  He’s only got little legs.  Cat?”

“I tried picking up his scent, bud, but there are too many animals down there.  There’s too much going on.”

“Okay, well, we’ll just have to split up and look for him.  Go find Rekkie and ask him to help.  Kryten can stay here with Jim and radio us if he comes back.”

“How can you be so calm?” Kriss demanded, “It’s already sunset.  If he’s gone far...”

“Oh, come on,” Lister said soothingly, “I know he’s still little, but think about it logically.  There’s really not much that can happen to him out here.”

“Whatever,” Kriss said impatiently, “Let’s just find him before he proves you wrong!”

            They split up into groups of two; Lister and Mike, Rimmer and Cat, Kriss and Rekki, and each went in a different direction.  After twenty minutes it was already making the fade from sunset to dusk, and despite his words of comfort to Kriss, Mike could see anxiety starting to creep into Lister’s eyes as the sun sank ever lower.  In the far distance they could hear the echo of the others calling Bexley’s name, the voices carrying clearly across the stillness of the valley.  The quietness of this little world of theirs had always felt restful and safe to Lister, but this evening, with his son alone somewhere in the growing gloom, it suddenly felt threatening.  Sinister. 

            Mike put a hand on his shoulder.  “He’s okay, Dave.  You know that, right?  He’ll turn up any second.”

“I know,” Lister smiled tightly, “And then I’m going to kill him.”

“Kids wander off.  It’s what they do.  And Jim and Bexley are that age now where everything is an adventure.  Just most kids don’t have an entire planet to explore.  I’m no expert, but I know I gave my mother kittens more than once at their age.”

“Well, that’s as maybe, but I for one have had enough adventures.  I just want a quiet life.”

“You shouldn’t have had kids then,” Mike grinned.  Lister didn’t smile back,

“Oh, smegging hell, Mike.  He could be anywhere.”

“Like you said to Kriss, there’s not much that can happen out...”

“I know what I said!” Lister snapped, “But now I’m thinking about ponds and rivers and steep cliffs and all kinds of other things that didn’t seem like such a big deal when the sun was still shining.  I’m _scared_ , Mike!” 

“Dave...” Mike took a step towards him.  His brown eyes were pained, frantic, and Mike couldn’t stand it.  He wanted to hold him, soothe him.  _Kiss_ him.  He moved another step closer and Dave seemed to lean towards him, wanting the comfort.  Or perhaps...just maybe...  

“Daddy?”

            Lister spun around away from him.  Mike too looked around.  Nothing.  “Bexley?” Lister called out anxiously. 

“Hi, Daddy!” the voice chirped again.

“Bexley, where _are_ you?” Lister demanded angrily.

“I’m up here!”  Lister and Mike shared a look – _Oh God_ \- before slowly looking upwards.  Perched on a thick branch high up above their heads, Bexley was grinning down at them, waving.  “Smegging hell!” Lister whispered.  Mike put a steadying hand on his shoulder, “Take it easy,”

“How the hell did you get up there?” Lister shouted.

“I climbed!”

“ _Why???_ ”

“I followed a squirrel.  She’s got a nest, Daddy!  With babies and everything!”

“Oh, great!” Lister put his face in his hands, “If he doesn’t fall and break his neck, he’s going to get eaten alive by an angry mother squirrel!”

“Look, if he got himself up there, I’m sure we can get him down,” Mike said soothingly.  “Bexley!”

“Hi, Uncle Mike!”

“Bexley, you’ve got to come down.  It’s late and your mother’s very worried about you.”

“I’m okay!”

“For now,” Lister growled.

“Just come down, please, Bex!”

“Okay, I’m coming!”

            They hovered fearfully under the branches as he crawled his way down towards them and finally jumped down into Lister’s waiting arms.  Lister hugged him tightly with relief, before dumping him back on his feet a little harder than necessary.  “You little rat-bag!  Do you know how worried we were?”

“Why?  I know the way home.”

“That’s not the point!  We didn’t know where you were!  What if you’d fallen out of that tree and hurt yourself?” 

“I wouldn’t have fallen, I’m a good climber!”

“So I see!”

“Anyway, you go out all the time and never tell us where you’re going!”  Bexley said sulkily, looking up at his father with reproachful brown eyes.  Lister fell silent.  Tactfully, Mike backed away and pulled out his radio, “Guys?  It’s okay, we’ve found him....Yes, yes he’s absolutely fine.  We’ll see you back at home.”

“That’s different,” Lister said finally, “I’m a grown-up.”

“You could still fall out of a tree,” Bexley muttered.

“I don’t climb trees!  And you won’t be climbing any more either if your mother hears about this!  Now, come on.  Let’s go home.”

“Piggyback?”

Lister gave a deep sigh and scooped him up, “Yeah, okay.”

            Later that evening, after supper, with Bexley thoroughly chastised and put to bed, Mike slipped out the house to go back to his own cabin and found Lister sitting on the step, smoking.  “You okay?” 

Lister smiled weakly, “Still waiting for my heart-rate to return to normal.”

“They’ll do that to you.”

“When I looked up and saw him out on that branch, I think I stopped breathing for a whole minute.”

“He’s a brave kid, I’ll give him that.” Mike lit up and sat down next to Lister, “But then, he gets that from his daddy.”

“That’s not bravery,” Lister smiled dryly, “It’s a complete lack of common sense.”

“That too.”

“Thank you for being there tonight.  I think I would have panicked without you.”

“Don’t sweat it.”

            “It’s weird,” Lister stared into the distance, “Things are so...peaceful here.  It’s so _different_ to how life was before.  I think it’s lulled us all into a false sense of security.  Like nothing could possibly go wrong.  But tonight...”

“Oh, come on.  Don’t dwell on it.  Bexley’s fine and you were right.  The chances of something happening to him were tiny in the first place.”

“I know.  But it’s just made me think about what would happen if something did go wrong; and not just with the kids.  We used to live with that threat every day, we got used to it, but now it’s different.  If something were to happen to you...” Their eyes met for a moment before Lister quickly looked away, “I mean, to any of you...I’m not sure I could cope.”

“Don’t say that.  You’re our rock.  If anyone can cope when things go wrong, it’s you.  You are the King of Copeville.”

“I’m not so sure.” Lister stubbed out his cigarette.

            Mike looked at him carefully.  He wanted to ask him, _Is that why you keep pulling away from us? Because you don’t want the responsibility of being the captain of this ship anymore?  Because you’re afraid of what might happen if you’re not up to it?  Or is it something else altogether...?_

He almost asked him right out, but Lister spoke first, “Promise me something.”

“What?”

“Promise me you’ll be careful.  Don’t fall out of a tree or drown in the lake, or anything stupid like that.”

“I’ll try.  But can you promise me the same thing?”

“I told you, I’m not a climber,” Lister smiled.

“Maybe not,” Mike said frankly, “I don’t know _what_ you do when you’re not here,” he added, with more than a hint of accusation in his voice.  _There, at least someone said it_.  Lister glanced at him with just a hint of shame but didn’t speak.  “And I’ll be honest with you, Dave.  If anything happened to you, I don’t think I could cope either.”  

            As soon as the words were out of his mouth, Mike felt a rush of agonised embarrassment.  Not at what he’d said, but because he knew his voice had given away much more than he’d meant it to.  

            Lister took a small breath as if to speak, but hesitated.  He looked startled, almost frightened; and when their eyes met, Mike knew for sure he’d heard the silent declaration of love he’d just unthinkingly blurted out.  Heard and understood.  Lister glanced away, towards the darkness of the trees and for a moment Mike thought he was going to bolt.  Just run and leave him sitting here on this step like the stupid fool he was.  The familiar sound of Rimmer’s voice floated out to them through the open window, breaking the silence, “...I threw a six and a three and then _he_ threw a one and a four...” and that seemed to do it.  Lister stood up suddenly.  Mike almost pleaded with him to stop, not to go, but there was no need.  “I’m going to see if the kids are settled,” he said, smiling brightly, “You want another drink?”

            Mike stared at him.  “No,” he said flatly.

“I’ll see you in the morning then.  Night.”

“Goodnight,” Mike said numbly.  With that, Dave disappeared inside.  Mike leaned against the wooden stoop, his breath rushing out.  What had just happened?  For a moment there he’d been sure...The look on Dave’s face...Had he just imagined it?  

            He gazed out into the darkness, his head spinning and heart aching, before picking himself off the step of the home that Lister shared with Kristine and the children, and walking back to his own cabin alone.  As he lay in his bed, staring blindly into the night, he played the day over and over in his head.  He scrutinised the memory of every moment spent with Lister, every expression that had passed through the brown eyes he loved, trying to make some sense of things.  Trying to find something tangible to cling to. 

But what lingered in his mind was the sound of his own father’s voice - _‘…He knows how I feel_ … _’_ – and the way the sound of that same voice had affected Lister out on the step, touching some deep part of him, pulling him back to the house…and away from Michael.  Unease shifted like a turbulent sea within him.  Now Dave’s voice joined in, chiming mockingly in his head like a prophecy of doom, ‘ _Like father, like son…_ ’ 

Mike McGruder placed his hands over his blind eyes as unease grew into doubt; and then despair began to wash over him like a slow incoming tide.  No. No.  Could it be true?  Could this be the reason for his father’s bitterness, for Dave’s growing detachment, for that pervading sense that something was strange and wrong in their otherwise idyllic lives?  Was this the final stab of cruel humour from a universe which had played with him for so many years?  Was he, in this most hideous and ironic way, perhaps more like his father than he had ever realised?   

It was a long time before he slept.

           

 

 


	5. Chapter 5

“We should put in an orchard,” Rimmer declared firmly, as they sat around the table in the farmhouse the next day, discussing how to develop the land round the back of the house.  Well, arguing, was a more accurate word for it.  Rimmer and Kochanski had their own ideas about what they wanted and the debate had been raging for some time.  “I think we should go with a vegetable garden,” Kriss countered, “We need to diversify what we’re growing, or as soon as we hit a bad year things are going to get tough.”

“We’ve got plenty of crops already.  If we plant the orchard then we’ll have food _and_ fuel.  Surely that’s a better use of our resources?”

“It could take years before the fruit trees develop enough for a decent yield.  What do we do then if there’s a drought?  We can’t eat bark.”

“Okay.  Knock it off you two,” Lister finally said mildly.  “If you can’t agree then we’ll vote on it.  Who wants the orchard?”  Rimmer and Reketrebn raised their hands.  Out of family solidarity, so did Mike.  “And who wants the vegetable patch?” Lister asked wearily, already seeing the outcome of this attempt at democracy.  Kriss, Kryten and Cat raised their hands.  “Well, that’s a lot of smegging help,” Lister complained.  It didn’t escape Mike’s notice that he was remaining neutral on this battlefield.

Kriss folded her arms, “Do I need to remind you that I am the superior officer here?”

“Actually, I hate to correct you, _Ma’am_ ,” Rimmer replied, with a smirk that suggested otherwise, “But _Michael_ is in fact the most senior officer present.”  Kristine’s cheeks flared for a moment, and she turned to McGruder.

“Listen, guys, I really actually don’t care either way,” Michael admitted uncomfortably.  He was tired from his long, sleepless night and he didn’t want to get caught in this crossfire.  Sensing an escape route, he dove for it.  “And anyway, Dave didn’t vote.”  All eyes turned to face Lister, who glared at him.

            He rolled his eyes and sat back in his chair, “Do I really have to sort out this dumb squabble?  Can’t you just…I don’t know…compromise or something?”  He looked back and forth between them, exasperated.  Rimmer and Kochanski both looked back at him expectantly, arms folded.   _No_ , Mike thought, _they can’t.  Because I might be the senior officer here but it’s what you say that goes._   _That’s just how it is and we all know it._ Butlooking at Kriss and then his father, another part of his brain wondered treacherously if there wasn’t another reason why it was Lister who was going to have to solve this little spat.  He quickly pushed the thought away. 

“Okay.  Fine.” Lister impatiently flipped his finger back and forth between them, “Ippy Dippy it is…”  Finally, he landed on Kriss.  “There.  We go with the vegetable garden.”

“What a surprise,” Rimmer grumbled, “When have I _ever_ won one of your stupid Ippy-Dippys?”

“Don’t be a sore loser,” Kriss remarked, getting up from the table.  Mike noticed her reach over and discreetly squeeze Dave’s hand as she did so.  But not very discreetly.  Dave squeezed back, but it was an absent-minded gesture.  He was talking to Rimmer, “Look we’ll find somewhere else for the orchard.  It’s probably too sheltered for trees to grow well out there anyway.”

“Don’t pretend you care what I think.  And don’t try and make excuses for taking sides,” Rimmer snapped, “We all know it’s because she’s got you flat under her thumb.” He stood up and walked out.

“Rimmer!” Lister started to get up to follow him.

“Let him go,” Kriss said easily, returning with a bowl of peaches, “He’ll get over it.  You know how he is.”

            Lister sighed and sat down again, but he looked anxiously towards the door.  Mike suddenly felt guilty for forcing him into this confrontation.  He knew very well that Dave _did_ care what Rimmer thought.  He also knew that Rimmer’s second accusation had been equally off the mark.  If Dave had deliberately swung the result in Kristine’s favour, he’d have done it because he agreed with her – not in the hope of being rewarded later.  Mike would have been willing to bet money that Lister and Kochanski hadn’t slept together in at least a year and probably longer, and the rest of the crew – Rimmer included – were no doubt equally aware of it. 

            However, Mike was almost certain that when Kriss had touched Dave’s hand just now, she’d fully intended for Rimmer to notice.  And Mike was _very_ certain that Rimmer _had_ noticed.

Reketrebn regarded Lister’s wounded expression with concern then gently tapped at his shoulder.  When Lister turned to face him, he morphed into a monkey wearing a tutu.  It had the desired effect; Lister smiled.  “I’m okay, man.  You don’t need to do that.”  Rekkie morphed back to its normal form.  Mike knew, as did the rest of them, that the denial was meaningless.  If Lister was really okay, Rekkie wouldn’t have bothered trying to cheer him up.  The GELF was an unfailingly reliable monitor of Lister’s mood; and over time the rest of the crew had become attuned to the bond between them as well.  Whenever Rekkie paused like that – during dinner or meetings or squabbles - and turned to look at Dave a certain way, everyone else looked too.  Because it meant that there was something going on in Lister’s head and it was trying to judge the best way to react.  Mike got the feeling that this annoyed Lister no end.  It certainly made poker games difficult.

Watching the smile fade from Lister’s face as he glanced back once again at the farmhouse door, Michael wondered if maybe the connection that Lister and Rekkie shared could be useful for something other than winning at cards.


	6. Chapter 6

            The next time they needed firewood, Mike went to find Reketrebn and asked if he’d go with him.  The GELF agreed cheerfully and they set off into the woods.  Once they were deep among the trees, Michael turned self-consciously to his companion.  “Look,” he said, “There’s something I want to talk to you about.”

“I thought there might be,” the GELF replied evenly, apparently not offended.  “You don’t normally come out here without Lister.”  Mike coloured slightly.  So it was that obvious.  He hoped the rest of their friends didn’t find his feelings so transparent.

“It’s just...You can read Dave’s thoughts, can’t you?”

“In a manner of speaking,” Rekkie shrugged.

“So...If I were to ask you...”

“To tell you some of them?” Reketrebn smiled knowingly.  Michael smiled back,

“I know how it sounds, but there is a reason.  I promise.”

“I suppose it all depends on what you want to know,” it replied reasonably, shrugging.

“Fair enough,” Michael conceded. 

            They sat down beside each other on a fallen tree trunk.  Mike straddled the tree to face Reketrebn more fully.  “Is Dave happy?” he asked bluntly. 

“Right now?” the GELF asked seriously.

“Just...Generally, I suppose.” 

            Reketrebn closed its eyes and seemed to think for a moment, head tilted as though listening to the sounds of the forest around them.  “Yes and no,” it finally replied honestly.

“Meaning?”

“He’s grateful for what he has.  More than grateful.  He tries to focus on that.”

“But?”

“There’s something else he wants.  Something he thinks he can’t have.”

“Something he _thinks_ he can’t have,” Mike repeated.  “Will you tell me what?”

“No,” Reketrebn replied apologetically, “Sorry.”

“Okay.” 

Mike paused and Rekkie waited patiently for him to gather his thoughts.  “Can you tell me,” Mike finally asked hesitantly, “what he feels about my father?”

“Affection,” Reketrebn replied without hesitation, then closed its eyes and listened for a while again, “And regret,” it added.

“Regret for what?”

“I don’t know.  It’s not that clear.”  Michael considered this. 

“Anything else?”

“Lots of things.  But emotions are….” The GELF gestured impotently, “I’m not sure that I could explain it in words, even if I wanted to.”

“You’re saying it’s complicated, right?” the corner of Mike’s mouth tugged up slightly. 

“It is,” Rekkie confirmed, smiling very slightly in return.

Michael decided to approach from a different angle.  “When we were fixing my father’s light-bee,” he said thoughtfully, “Kryten hooked you up to the AR machine on Starbug, didn’t he?  He wanted to find out if he was psychologically stable for revival.  He got you to send one of your hooks into his subconscious to check.”

“That is correct.”

“Do you still have it there?”

“No.  I removed it when I was done.”

“Do you remember anything?”

“I remember all of it.”

“So can you tell me what my father feels about Lister?” Mike asked.

            Reketrebn closed its eyes again, drawing out the memory.  “The same as Lister feels for him,” it replied, “Only sharper...and sort of... _further down_.  Squashed.”   Mike studied the bark of the tree they were seated upon, its whorls and patterns as complex as emotion.  He knew what he needed to ask, but the question – the very _possibility_ – frightened him.  He wasn’t sure how he would live with the knowledge if his suspicions were true, or what to think if they were not.  He took a deep breath and forced himself to be blunt.

“Do they love each other?”

“Oh, yes,” Reketrebn said, as if it were obvious.  Mike reeled for a moment, then thought about the way Rekkie viewed human emotions and took a second to compose himself and re-phrase the question. 

“Do you think,” he asked the GELF more quietly, “That they’ve ever been lovers?”

“No,” Reketrebn replied confidently.

“Are you sure?”

“Positive.”

“Have they ever _wanted_ to be?” Michael persisted.  The GELF sighed and closed its eyes again.  “There’s… _something_ there,” it admitted reluctantly, “But in your father it’s been buried so deep that I doubt he’s ever consciously faced it.”

“And in Lister?” Mike asked gently.  Reketrebn pulled a guilty face, as if to say, ‘I really shouldn’t be telling you this’.  Mike swallowed hard.  “Please,” he said softly.  Rekkie heard the pain in his voice, saw it in his eyes, and sighed deeply.

“It’s hard to say,” It finally said awkwardly, “He feels...maybe...that _something_ should have been different between them.  That he should feel a certain way and he doesn’t.  But it’s all tied in with other stuff.  Stuff I don’t think I can tell you about.”

“Okay,” Michael gave in.  “Thank you, Rekkie.”

“That’s alright.” 

            The GELF stood up and stretched, “Don’t read too much into it,” it told him kindly, “We’re only bonded with one hook, you see.  Sometimes I get things wrong.  I...mis-read things.  Human emotions are hard at the best of times.”

“Rekkie?” Mike hesitated before facing his companion.

“Yes?”

“Can you tell me how Dave feels about me?” 

Reketrebn gave him a look he couldn’t quite interpret, then said, “He loves you.  But you know that, don’t you?”  Michael sighed heavily,

“Thank you, Rekkie.”

            As they walked back to the farm later that afternoon with their wood bundles, Mike turned to his companion once more.  “Reketrebn?”

“Yes?”

“You have five hooks in total, right?”

“Yes.”

“And for you to be...complete...you have to share them all with another person, right?  I mean, you’re a symbi.  That’s what you guys thrive on.  A symbiotic relationship.”

“Yes, I suppose so.”

“So,” Mike foundered slightly, “If you don’t mind my asking...Aren’t you lonely?”

            Reketrebn shrugged, “Dave says it’s important for me to be independent.  That I shouldn’t need to share myself with another to be complete.”

“But that’s part of who you are!”

“I asked him once to be my host, to share all five of my hooks.  But he said no.”

“Did he say why?”

“He said he didn’t want to be my master,” Rekkie said sadly, “That if he took all my hooks I’d end up like a slave, existing just to please him, and he didn’t want that.  But I think that’s only part of it.  He gets cross sometimes when I read him.  He tells me it’s intrusive.”

“So why doesn’t he ask you to take your hook back?”

“Because he knows I need it.  I need something, some contact.  He won’t cut me off.  But he won’t let me all the way in either.” Rekkie sighed deeply.  Michael sympathised, _I know how you feel, Rekkie_.  “I know he’s thought about letting me share another hook with him.  Just once or twice,” Reketrebn continued, “But I think he’s frightened.  He thinks once we start going down that road there won’t be any way of going back.  And to be honest, I think he’s more frightened at the thought of needing someone else that way, than he is of me needing him.”

            Mike smiled, almost bitterly.  Yes, that sounded about right.  Dave was nothing if not independent, but all too frequently he projected that need onto others.  The idea of submitting entirely to another was anathema to him; it was why he still got annoyed when Kryten crept round to the house and did his laundry for him in the night.  No wonder the concept of such a fundamentally co-dependent relationship with Reketrebn frightened him.  “Is there nobody else you could share your hooks with?” he asked earnestly. 

“Well, yes.  In theory, I could share a hook with each of you.  You, Dave, Kriss, Cat, Arnold...”

“But?”

“But it wouldn’t be fulfilling enough.”

“Why not?” 

Reketrebn smiled at him sadly, “I can’t please everyone.  And besides…” it looked away shyly, “None of you need me the way he does.”

 


	7. Chapter 7

            Whatever the emotional weather in their little settlement, it was still the changing seasons which dictated their lives.  With the days getting shorter there were things that needed attending to before the harsh winter gripped their home, such as harvesting their crops and getting the farm weather-tight.  One thing that needed urgent attention was the rebuilding of the fence that ran through the fields at the back of the house.  Their previous effort had been destroyed in high winds last season, and it was clear that something more substantial was required.

            McGruder, obviously, volunteered his services to help Lister with the erection; as it gave him a legitimate reason to spend the day in the company of his favourite person _and_ watch him get hot and sweaty.  He also intended to use the time to do a little bit of digging, but not of the agricultural kind.  There were some things he wanted to ask Lister, and he wanted a little privacy.

As soon as there was a nice enough day to work outdoors, the two of them made their way out to the back of the field, dragging tools and materials behind them.  The windows of the farmhouse glinted across the way, a heartening reminder that they were capable of putting together a decent structure that would withstand the storms if they put their minds to it. 

When they started nailing the frame together a little while later, Mike seized his opportunity.  “We should have brought Dad for this part,” he ventured, “With that hard-light drive he wouldn’t even need a damn hammer.”

“No,” Lister smiled, “But he’d use one anyway, just in case it hurt.  And besides, I want to get this done today.  I don’t care if this nail is a cross-head or pin-head, I don’t care if it’s a five inch or five and a half, and I definitely don’t care if they are not all placed at precise intervals along the whole length of the fence.”

“You want it to stay up, don’t you?” Mike dead-panned.

“Yes.  I also want to get through this without using a set-square, thank you very much.”

“Therein lies the difference.”

“Therein it does.”

“You know,” Mike probed, “I’ve never really understood why your computer chose to bring my father back.  Obviously I’m glad,” he added quickly, “But it doesn’t seem to add up.  My mother always told me it was because he was the best.  Best officer, best warrior, the best person to protect you.  Well, we all know that’s a steaming pile of bullshit, so what’s the real reason?”

“Do you know,” Lister said mildly, sitting back on his haunches, “I’ve never been able to figure it out either.  Holly always claimed Rimmer was the best person to keep me sane.”

“But _why?_ ”

“I could never get a straight answer.  It seems to defy all logic known to mankind.  By rights we should have murdered each other within a week.  But here we are, all these years later, both alive – or at least as alive as we were to begin with – and I’m not wearing my pants on my head.  Me and Rimmer, it seems, just... _work_.”  Lister shrugged helplessly.

            “Do you ever wonder,” Mike pretended to focus on the nail he was hammering, “If Holly knew something you didn’t?”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know.  Something about dad.  Something about you.  Anything.”

“Holly had an I.Q. of six thousand.  He knew lots of things we didn’t.  Or maybe he just understood more about us than we did about ourselves.  Either way, it worked.”

“Doesn’t it bother you not knowing?”

“I stopped thinking about it years ago,” Lister replied, with what sounded like honesty, “If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it and all that.”

“But when he died…Here, I mean…When we weren’t sure what would happen…Did you wonder how you would cope without him?”

“Well…yeah, of course.”

“If we hadn’t found him or the antidote disk hadn’t worked, do you think you’d have gone crazy without him?”

“I don’t know,” Lister sounded uncomfortable, “I hope not.  I mean, I coped on Garbage World all those years by myself.  And all that time in the backwards dimension, although I wasn’t alone there.”  Mike was slightly bowled over.  It was easy to forget just how much his companion had been through, it staggered him slightly just to think about it.  Admiration wasn’t a strong enough word.  “And things are different now.  It’s not like it was when there was just me and him.  Cat couldn’t really hold a proper conversation back then and Holly was going strange.  If I need to talk I can go to Kryten, or Rekkie, or Kriss.  And of course I’ve got you.”

            Michael speculated for a moment about Kristine’s position on that list, then wondered if there was any significance attached to his own.  “But…” Lister voice wavered for a moment, “I have to admit…It still would have been strange without him.”  He stared into space for a moment, then shook himself.  “This hammer’s rubbish.”

“Huh?” Mike was blindsided by the sudden change of topic.

“This hammer.  It’s not heavy enough.  I should have brought my other toolbag.”

“Where is it?”

“Back at the house,” he glanced back over his shoulder, debating the journey.  Mike got to his feet, “I’ll go,” he said, “I need another one too.  My hammer’s even smaller than yours.”

“Well, I wasn’t going to say it…” Dave remarked.

“Then don’t,” Mike advised him.

            Back at the house, he bounded up the short steps and wandered through the unlocked door into the kitchen.  Kriss was sitting at the table with the boys, doing some reading practise.  They greeted him with welcoming smiles.  “Hey,” he said, “Sorry to barge in but Dave thinks he needs some stuff from his old tool-bag.  Do you know where it is?”

“Yeah, it’s...” Kriss paused suddenly, as though making certain in her head, “It’s in the old trunk in the bedroom; the one against the far wall.”  Kriss started to stand up, then hesitated, “You’re okay to find it yourself, aren’t you?” she said, “I mean, you know where everything is.  Go help yourself and we’ll just stay here and carry on.”

“Okay, sure,” Mike agreed, “I won’t be a minute.”

            He headed into the bedroom and flipped open the trunk.  The tool-bag was lying near the top, with only a few things scattered over it.  Lister still used it quite often, so it hadn’t been in there long enough to get buried.  As he pulled it out, a few bits and pieces that had got caught up with the clip on the shoulder strap came with it.  One was a slightly creased photo that fluttered to the floor.

            Michael bent down to scoop it up, but stopped as he got a proper look at what the photo contained.  He picked it up gently and stared at it, his heart thumping.  He knew he should drop it straight back into the trunk, grab the tool-bag and walk away but somehow he couldn’t quite make himself.  He wondered for a moment if Kriss had been looking at it lately, remembering old times.  Had she forgotten this was in here when she’d sent him in to help himself?  A tight, anxious feeling started to spread through his guts.  In his head he played over their brief interaction in the kitchen – saw her stand up, hesitate, then sit back down again.  She could have left the kids with Mike for the few moments it would have taken her to come in here and fetch the tools but for some reason she’d decided against it.  Had she meant for him to find this?  Did she _know?_  

            It was a picture of Dave.  He was on the bed that was behind Michael at this very moment, lying on his stomach with his arms folded beneath his head, and not a wisp of clothing anywhere about his person.  He was looking over his shoulder, directly into the lens, with an expression that clearly said, ‘Stop pissing about with that smegging camera and get your ass back into bed for Round Two’.  And it was the look in those eyes, more than the sight of those beautiful, bare, oh-so-squeezable buttocks so temptingly offered up for his attention, which brought him to an almost immediate and painful erection.

            Mike tore his eyes away from the picture and stared out of the window for a few seconds to compose himself.  Then he looked at it again.  He fought with himself for less than a heartbeat before guiltily stuffing the picture into his pocket, scooping up the bag full of tools and scurrying out. 

            Kriss was still sitting at the table with Jim and Bexley when he came back through.  She looked up, and Mike prayed that his face didn’t look as red as it felt.  And that his trousers didn’t look as tight as they felt, come to that.  Was he being paranoid, or was Kriss looking him over rather more completely than was necessary? 

            “Did you find what you were looking for?” she asked pleasantly, looking straight into his eyes.  Michael’s cheeks were burning like Satan’s hot water bottle, but he met her gaze.  He thought suddenly of another moment at this table recently, of Kriss reaching over to squeeze Lister’s hand, but making sure that one person saw.  Or perhaps more than one person….

            “Yes,” he said softly, “I found it.”

“Good,” she said briskly, “Was there anything else?  Did you want some tea or coffee while you’re here?”

“No.  I, er...No, I’d better get back.  To Dave.  He...er...He’ll be needing these.  Thanks.  Thanks anyway.”

“You’re welcome,” Kriss replied softly, before turning her attention back to her sons. 

            Mike dashed out.  Once he was out the door, Kriss glanced up again to watch him as he hurried away down the path.  “What is it, Mummy?” Jim asked.  Kriss looked down at her child’s inquisitive brown eyes.  “What do you mean?”

“You’re smiling.  But you look sad at the same time.”

            Kristine Kochanski kissed her son’s forehead and gave him a proper smile, “I’m not sad, darling,” she said, “I was just hoping Uncle Mike has everything he needs.”

 


	8. Chapter 8

            The erection ebbed somewhat as Mike hurried back to the field, chafing against his trousers as he walked, but threatened to make a comeback the instant he saw Lister.  He had his back to him, and was kneeling over some of the roughly chopped lengths of wood with his sleeves rolled up, working on the crosspieces for the fence.  Mike slowed down and enjoyed the view as he made his way across the damp grass to join him.  Whether he sensed the eyes on him, or just caught the soft sounds of someone approaching, Dave straightened up and glanced back over his shoulder.  The pose made Mike think again of the picture stashed in his pocket and he had to breathe deeply to control the fresh flush of arousal that spread through him.

            “Hey,” Lister greeted him easily, “You found it alright, then?”

“Yeah,” Mike unhooked the bag from his shoulder and dropped it at his feet, “No sweat.”

“Nice one,” Lister started to paw through the contents and extracted a hammer, larger and heavier than the slender one he’d been using, “Ah, now that’s more like it!”  

“Size isn’t everything,” Mike remarked with a wan smile.  Lister grinned playfully and gave the hammer an experimental swish, “Helps though.  Y’know, if you’re gonna nail something properly...”  Michael rolled his eyes and busied himself with rummaging through the bag, wishing he hadn’t said anything.  He was in no condition to cope with tool-bag innuendo at this point in time.  If Lister asked him for a screw right now, he’d probably come in his pants like a kid.  He pulled another hammer out of the bag and set to work at the other end of the fence, determined to focus on the task in hand.

            He threw himself into the job and little by little they quickly worked their way inward.  Mike was concentrating so hard that he didn’t realise how close Lister had come to him, until they both looked up at the same moment and gently bumped noses.  Startled, Mike pulled his head back and Lister, equally perturbed, did the same.  They looked at each other blankly for a second, then giggled.  “Didn’t see you there,” Dave smiled. 

“Shouldn’t creep up on a guy like that,” Mike told him, his heart pounding.

“Me creeping up?  You were almost on top of me!” Lister protested playfully.  _Almost_ , Mike thought wistfully, swallowing hard. 

“Yeah, I can see how six feet of solid marine would be easy to miss,” he quipped.

“And I’m such a dainty little thing that you just looked clean over my head, right?”  Lister meaningfully tapped the hammer against his palm, his expression _daring_ Mike to make a joke about his height.  Mike rose to the occasion, “I _always_ look clean over your head, Dave.”

“Okay,” Lister grinned, tossing the hammer aside, “That’s it, McGruder.  You and me.  Outside.”

“We’re already outside.”

“Then I’ll get started,” Lister reached over and cuffed him round the head.

“Aw, Dave…” Mike was in no mood to wrestle.  He was still too horny and jittery; and very aware of the item stashed in his pocket, “Knock it off!”

“What’s the matter, kid?  You scared?” Dave taunted.

“Don’t call me ‘kid’.  I’m older than you, dammit.”       

“Okay, old man.  You scared?” Lister jabbed at him.

“Dave, I’m serious.  I don’t want to play.  It’s too hot…”

“Then you’ll just have to lie back while I kick your arse!”  Dave lunged at him.  They fell backwards and scrabbled.

            The fight was fairly short.  Lister was pretty strong and he knew how to scrap; but six foot something of highly-trained marine will usually take down five foot something of scouser nine times out of ten.  “Okay!  Okay!” he gasped, when Mike was sitting heavily on his stomach, pinning his wrists, “You win.  I surrender.  Get off me.”

“Say please.”

“Oh, you are such a….”

“Make that ‘Please, Lieutenant’.”

“Ugh.  Don’t tell me you’re another one who gets your kicks that way.  What is it with you Rimmers?”

“Say it!” Mike grinned.  Lister rolled his eyes, then fixed Mike with his sweetest smile and fluttered his eyelashes, “Please, Lieutenant.  Will you get your big American butt off me?”

“Alright.  Seeing as you asked so nicely,” He pinched Lister’s cheek, “And seeing as you’re _such_ a pretty girl…”

“Gerroff!”

            Mike rolled off to lay beside him on the grass.  Dave glanced over at him, smiling, but clearly chastened by his defeat.  They grinned sheepishly at each other.  “We’re too old for this shit,” Mike muttered.

“Maybe _you_ are,” Lister replied haughtily.

“We’re supposed to be building a fence.  Not rolling around on the grass like a couple of teenagers.”  Lister raised an eyebrow and Mike blushed,

“I didn’t mean like…a _couple_.  I meant like a pair.  Of kids.  You know what I meant!”

“Yeah,” Lister said softly, “I do.”  Mike thought he detected a slightly knowing tone in that voice.  He looked at him curiously, wondering if he’d imagined it.  Lister met his gaze and smiled.  And there was something in that smile.  Something warm, sweet…and inviting.  Mike’s heart pounded.  Was this another one of those moments like the night on the steps?  Was he completely mis-reading the signs?  He propped himself up on one arm, “Dave…” he said hesitantly.

            Pain shot through his hand and up his arm.  “Ah!” he fell to the ground and rolled on his back, clutching his hand.  Lister sat up sharply, “Mike!  What is it, man?”

“Son of a bitch!” Mike risked a glance at his injury.  There was a nail sticking through his palm.  Blood was pulsing out and down his arm.  Lister sucked in his breath, “Oh smeg!”  He scrambled to his feet and helped pull Michael up off the ground.  He wrapped a soothing arm around his waist.  “Come on!  Let’s go back to the house!”

“Ah, crap, that hurts!” Mike seethed through gritted teeth.  His face slowly drained of colour and he swayed. 

“Oh no,” Lister moaned, “Don’t faint.  Please.  I can’t carry you!”  He helped ease him back down on the grass and knelt beside him.

“You go back,” Mike murmured, thrusting his head between his knees, “Get Kryten.  He’ll know what to do.”

“I don’t want to leave you!”  He felt Dave’s hand on the back of his neck and risked raising his head and looking into his eyes.  Mike wondered later if it was just the blood loss making him woozy, but for what felt like a very long time, it felt like neither of them breathed.

            Suddenly, a large brown hare came racing up to them.  It morphed into Reketrebn.  “What’s happened?  What’s wrong?” the GELF asked anxiously.  In his pain-dazed state, Michael wondered for a second how it had known something was up.  After their conversation the other day, had Reketrebn been spying on the pair of them?  It only took him a moment to realise the idea was ridiculous and paranoid.  Rekkie would have sensed Lister’s distress the moment Mike injured himself. 

“Mike put his hand through a nail!” Lister stammered, “I mean…a nail through his…I mean…He’s hurt!”

“Oh…Oh dear,” the GELF took a quick look at the damage, “Here, let me help.  We can carry him back between us.”

“Thank you, Rekkie.”

            Cat met them at the entrance to the farmyard and went to find Kryten, while Lister and Reketrebn took Mike inside and put him on the sofa.  Cat too, Michael mused later, seemed to have been waiting for them as if he had known something.  Perhaps he had picked up the smell of blood, or maybe his feline intuition had been tingling.

            Kryten arrived quickly with a medi-kit and, after shooing the twins out of the room (their level of sympathy had extended to cries of ‘Cool!’ and ‘Gross!’ respectively), swiftly extracted the offending object, sewed up the wound and gave Mike a tetanus shot.  “There you go, Sir,” his pink face beamed beneficently, “All done.  Once the stitches are out you’ll need to do some exercises just to ensure there’s no lasting muscle damage, but I think you’ll be just fine.”

“Thanks Kryten.”

            Lister sank down next to him on the sofa, “You okay, man?  You look a bit better.”

“Yeah, I don’t want to hurl so much anymore.  How bout you?”

“Nausea free but with a bad back.  How much do you _weigh_?”  

“Don’t be mean to Mr Michael, sir,” Kryten reproved gently, tidying up his medical supplies, “He’s injured.”

“He’s injured me!  I’ll need a spinal realignment!”

“Up yours, Lister,” Mike grinned, “It’s about time you did some weight-lifting.”

            Kriss entered, the twins – and Rimmer - peeping out cautiously behind her, and viewed the scene with a mixture of mild amusement and despair.  Lister and Mike looked up sheepishly.  “Well,” she said disapprovingly; her eyes lingering on Mike for what felt like just a second too long, “What _have_ you boys been up to?”


	9. Chapter 9

            Mike lay in bed later that night, his bandaged hand resting on his stomach.  In his good hand, he held the stolen photograph.  Even with the pain of his injury hanging over him like a raincloud, the image still filled him with such desperate longing…and need.  Frustrated, he tossed it aside, lit a cigarette and stared up at the ceiling.  This wasn’t helping.  He felt like a creep for taking it in the first place.  Whatever he might fantasise, the moment captured in that photo had not been meant for him.  Stealing naked photos of his friend from their home was not only wrong but borderline perverse – on a level with peeping through his bedroom window at night to watch him undress.  Despite the needs of his libido, Mike both loved and respected Dave and this felt like a betrayal. 

            He shifted restlessly on the bed.  He couldn’t keep the suspicion out of his mind that Kriss had intended for him to find the picture.  If he was right, then what did that mean?  Was it a not-so-gentle reminder that Dave was - officially at least – already spoken for?  Or had it been her way of giving her blessing?  What if he had imagined that look in her eyes altogether and she had no idea that he had just waltzed off with a rather intimate picture of her husband?  And what about that look in Dave’s eyes earlier, that suggestive note in his voice – had he imagined that too?

He stubbed out his cigarette with a degree of frustration and ran his fingers back through his hair.  He felt like he was going crazy.  He couldn’t stop himself constantly re-evaluating every little thing at the moment that everyone said and did, particularly Dave.  And, of course, the more he thought about it, the more questions he ended up with.  And one remark in particular was preying on his mind, _‘Don’t tell me you’re another one who gets your kicks that way.  What is it with you Rimmers?’_

            Suspicion prickled at him like an intrusive hedgehog.  He was very aware of the fact that Lister and his father knew pretty much everything about each other.  There’d been very little room for privacy in their lives and far too much time for talking.  What they hadn’t found out by living together, they’d told each other over the years to relieve boredom.  It should be no great surprise therefore that Dave knew more than was healthy about his father’s sexual preferences.  It didn’t mean…well, anything.  It was just another disturbing facet of their unique and incomprehensible relationship.  He’d had just about the most authoritative assurance that he could get that that relationship had never been sexual.  And yet…

            Yet there it was.  Like Reketrebn had told him, there was _something._   Something you couldn’t put into words, couldn’t pin down.  Intangible as morning mist, inexplicable as the patterns in a tree trunk and as much a part of the landscape as both those things.  And such an odd thing for Lister to tease him about.  What connection had Dave made deep in his mind, looking up into Michael’s face, that had caused him to think of Rimmer Senior and _that_ particular nugget of information.  And did he even want to know?

            Yes, he did.  Because until he understood their strange, enigmatic relationship, he would never understand Lister.  And he would never know if there was a chance, even just a tiny one, that Lister might understand…accept…or even return his feelings.

            That night he dreamt of his father, Kristine and himself, dancing around Dave like a maypole, while Kryten played the accordion.  The three of them held brightly coloured ribbons that wound around him like chains.  Reketrebn stood to one side, clinging to his end of the ribbon and weeping because he couldn’t dance.  Dave was calling to them, “Don’t fall out of step.  If the dance goes wrong I’ll never get free!”

But Mike knew that there were worse things that would happen if the dance faltered; they all knew it.  And that’s why they couldn’t stop.


	10. Chapter 10

            “I don’t want a party,” Lister growled a couple of weeks later as Kryten merrily beat together frosting for the cake cooling on the windowsill.  “Turning thirty was bad enough.  Being thirty- _one_ is hardly something to celebrate.”

“I can’t understand what you’re making such a fuss about,” Rimmer remarked from his chair by the fireplace, glancing over the top of the book he was reading.  “It’s not like you haven’t been through it all before.  Twice before in fact.” 

“Thanks for the reminder.”

“You know most people who’ve experienced life from the other side of sixty would be thrilled to be thirty-one again.”

“Hell, even _I’d_ be grateful to be thirty-one again,” Mike chipped in.

“But I’m not really thirty-one,” Lister complained, “I’m over three million smegging years old.  And making this stupid fuss every time I have a birthday just reminds me of that.”

“Well, you look marvellous for your age, Sir,” Kryten told him sunnily.

“Don’t be a spoilsport,” Kriss added, “Any excuse for a party, that’s what I say.”

            They were all being deliberately over-cheerful and it showed.  Lister had been in a very dark mood for the past fortnight, ostensibly because of this impending birthday.  He’d been snappy and distant, and seemed to be spending even more time than usual hiding away in the woods and hills.  In fact over the last week he’d been absent far more than he was present.  This celebration had been Kochanski’s idea.  She hadn’t voiced her reasoning explicitly, but they were all aware that it was in part a ploy to try and get Dave to re-engage with them.  She knew he was less likely to disappear if it was clear that they’d gone to an effort to do something nice for him.

            Apart from the cake, they’d built a bonfire outside the house to have a barbecue and toast marshmallows once the sun went down.  They’d also siphoned off a healthy amount of the home brew which had been maturing in the barn.  The twins in particular were incredibly excited, and Kriss had got them to make paper hats and streamers for the occasion.  Lister was having a party whether he liked it or not.

            Despite the birthday boy’s initial reluctance, the party actually went very well.  It felt like a long time since they’d enjoyed a proper celebration.  There was a feeling in the air of relief and release, as though some dark heavy cloud that had been hanging over them had finally burst and they were all now dancing in the rain.  Even Lister, after a couple of drinks, seemed genuinely happy.  Reketrebn hadn’t morphed for hours, which was always a good sign that Lister was content.

            After the twins had fallen asleep by the fire, their small fingers sticky with melted marshmallows, Kryten had helped Kriss to carry them in, clean them up and put them to bed.  And then the real drinking had started in earnest.  It was sometime after the last dregs of potent homemade alcohol had been consumed, that Michael noticed that their numbers had dwindled.  Kriss had retreated to the house so that she would hear the children if they woke up and called for her and Kryten had started cleaning up as soon as the food was gone.  Rimmer, clearly a little worse for wear, had gone to the toilet sometime previously and so far hadn’t returned.  Cat had suffered an intense late-night attack of the munchies and was prowling around the kitchen looking for party leftovers and anything else that would fill him up.  Mike had last caught a glimpse of him chasing a marshmallow across the kitchen floor and had overheard Kochanski saying something which sounded both amused and exasperated in response.  Now it was just he and Lister, sprawled inelegantly side by side on blankets laid close to the fire’s warmth and light, talking and giggling.  Reketrebn had, at some point, slipped away unnoticed.

            “Everyone’s gone in,” Mike said.  Lister raised his head with difficulty and squinted around himself.  “Lightweights,” he proclaimed simply, then let his head drop back down.  “Dad’s been gone ages.  I think he’s throwing up.  Maybe I should go check on him.”

“He’ll be fine,” Lister replied dismissively, “He’ll reset himself if he’s feeling too rough.”

“If only I could do the same,” Mike remarked glumly.

“Feeling giddy?” Lister teased. That wasn’t exactly what Michael had meant, but he ran with it. 

“Don’t try and tell me you’re not.”

“Yeah, man.  That booze ain’t bad.  Tastes better than the last batch we made too.  Think we’re onto a winner.”

“I think you’re right.”

            Lister put his hands behind his head, “It’s such a beautiful night.  The sky is so clear.”

“It’s gorgeous,” Mike wasn’t looking up though.

“It’s strange to think that we lived up there.  All those years.  If things had gone slightly different we could still be out there, flying around in Starbug.”  Mike looked at him closely,

“Do you wish you were?”

“No,” Lister turned to him in surprise, “No, of course not.”

“You sounded, I dunno…wistful.”

“We had some fun,” Lister admitted, “We had our adventures, don’t get me wrong.  But a real home, that was what I was looking for.”

“Did you find it?” Mike asked seriously.

“Of course,” Dave turned to him, puzzled, “This place is everything I could ask for.”

“Everything?”

“Yeah.  And besides,” he smiled, “If we’d never come here, I’d have never met you.”

“Don’t say that like it matters,” Mike replied bitterly.

            Lister looked wounded, “What do you mean?”  A part of McGruder knew he should shut up, that this was the drink talking, but another part of him was sick of all the pretense.  “If you’re so happy here, Dave – if you really have everything you could want – then why do you keep running away?”  Lister was clearly stunned.  Mike took the opportunity to land a few more blows.  “Don’t you realise how much you’re hurting everyone?  Don’t you _care?_ ”

“Oh, Mike,” Lister rolled over and propped himself up, his expression pained, “Don’t say that, man.”

“Why not?  It’s true.  You’re pushing everyone away and it’s not fair.  Why can’t you just tell us what’s wrong so we can help?”

“There’s nothing wrong!” Lister said desperately.

“Who are you trying to kid?  You know, it’s not just Jim and Bexley who miss you when you disappear for days on end!” Lister winced as if struck, “Everyone worries about you.  Kryten throws himself into looking after the kids because he doesn’t know what else to do.  And you’ve probably never even realised how hard it is for Rekkie to be apart from you for so long.”  Michael had seen the GELF just yesterday, pacing up and down the boundary of the farm, gazing yearningly towards the hills.  It could sense Lister up there, could sense his unhappiness, but knew its presence would not be welcome.  For Reketrebn there was nothing worse than feeling Lister suffering and not being able to do anything to soothe him; it went against all the Symbi’s instincts.

“Rekkie doesn’t need me,” Lister replied hotly, “Rekkie is independent, not a dog, or a slave to my emotions.  Nor is Kryten.  I’m not anyone’s master!”

“That’s not nearly as true as you want it to be,” Mike retorted.  Lister looked away stubbornly.  “Fine,” Mike snapped, “But if you don’t care about being a good master, or even a good father, you could at least try being a good friend.  You could try caring about me.”  Lister’s head snapped round,

“I do care about you!” he said fiercely, “How can you say that?”

“If you care about me – about any of us – then why are you never here?  Why do you spend all your time trying to get as far away as possible?”

“You don’t understand.”

“No, I don’t!  That’s why I’m asking for an explanation.  What is it you want, Dave?  What do the trees and the rivers and the darkness give you that we can’t?”

            Lister buried his face in his arms, “I can’t talk about this, man.  Not right now.  And not with you.”

“ _Why_ not with me?”

“Because I don’t want to fight with you.”

“I’m not trying to pick a fight.  I want to _help!_ ”

“You can’t,” Lister said simply.  Mike rolled away from him in disgust.  He felt Lister’s hand on his arm.  “Mike…c’mon, man.  Please don’t be angry.  Please don’t hate me.”

“I don’t hate you,” Mike told him honestly, his voice gravelly with resentment, “But I almost wish I could right now.”

“You mean _so_ much to me,” Dave’s voice was wobbly, “You know that.  What I do…it’s because I have to.  Because it’s the only way.  Not because I don’t care.”

“I don’t believe you,” Mike rolled over again to confront him, and they lay face to face.  “Whatever the problem is, there has to be a better way than this.”

“I wish there was.”

“I wish you would stop being so god _damn_ secretive and just talk to me.”

“I wish,” Dave smiled weakly and reached over to place a gentle finger on Michael’s lips, “That you’d let this go and just help me enjoy what’s left of my birthday.”

“It’s after midnight,” Mike muttered, grudgingly enjoying the feel of Dave’s fingertip against his mouth as he spoke, “It’s not your birthday anymore.”

“Then just be a good friend and accept that this is the way it has to be.”

“I can’t.  But I guess that’s because I care about you more than you’ll ever care about me.”  Lister sighed and closed his eyes,

“You have no idea how wrong you are.”

“So convince me.  Stop running away.”

“Oh, Mike…” Lister said hopelessly.

“Please, Dave.  Whatever is wrong we will fix it.  Just stay with us,” Mike reached up and gently cupped the side of Lister’s face, “Stay with _me_.”

            Lister raised his hand and rested it gently over Michael’s.  His eyes were worried, apprehensive, but Mike sensed something else too.  He knew he wanted to say yes.  Suddenly Lister screwed his eyes shut and shook his head.  “I have to go,” he said thickly, scrambling to his feet, “I have to go now.”

“No,” Mike tightened his hold on his hand and stood with him, “You _don’t_.  Dave, everything you need is right here.”

“It’s no good.  I can’t do this,” he said brokenly.

“Do what?”

“I need to be alone.  I need…to get…a grip.”

“A grip on what?”

“On myself.  And if I stay here with you,” Lister’s eyes filled with tears as he firmly pulled his hand from Mike’s grasp, “Everything will fall apart.”

“ _Why?_ ” Mike demanded furiously.  Dave speared him with a look that was both angry and frustrated. 

“You know why,” he said. 

             Mike froze.  “What do you mean?” he asked weakly.  But Lister was already backing away.  He shook his head despairingly.  “I’m sorry,” he said brokenly, “I wish…I wish that things were different.  I wish it didn’t have to be this way.”  He turned away but Mike grabbed his arm and yanked him back.  “No.  Wait a minute,” he gripped Dave’s shoulders urgently, “You wish _what_ was different?”

“It doesn’t matter.  Let me go.”

“It _does_ matter.  What are you afraid will happen, Dave, if you stay?  Tell me.  What do you think you might do?” 

Lister closed his eyes and shook his head.  “Come on,” Mike probed, almost angrily, his heart was beating so hard it felt like it would burst. “What could possibly happen?  It’s just you and me, right?”

“Don’t…” Lister pleaded.  Mike did not relent.

“Just you and me here…” he continued softly, “Alone…by the fire…”  Lister shook his head again despairingly.  “Tell me,” Mike persisted softly.  If Dave meant what he thought he meant, if this was the thing he’d longed for over so many years of sleepless nights, then he wasn’t going to let it slip away.  He wasn’t going to let this be yet another of those maddening ‘what-if’ moments that had dogged their relationship for so long.  He needed the truth.  Lister finally opened his eyes and gazed up at Mike unsteadily.  And suddenly all the questions evaporated.  All those sideways glances that Michael had wondered if he’d imagined, all those fleeting glimpses of something that might have been more than just affection, were no longer in question.  It was all right there in Lister’s face - the longing and desire utterly open, unquestionable and naked. 

The firelight reflected in his tears, making his dark wet eyes burn supernaturally bright.  Mike gazed back at him, stunned and entranced.  He reached up and touched Lister’s cheek, ran his thumb along his soft parted lips and felt him draw a soft breath, and then tremble from head to toe.  “Dave…” he whispered, leaning forwards.  Lister took a faltering step backwards.  “No.”

Michael drew back, confused.  He wasn’t wrong, he _knew_ he wasn’t, so what was this?  Dave’s expression was one of pain, fear…but also sorrow.  “I…can’t…” he whispered faintly.  “ _We_ …”  He trailed off despairingly and turned away, covering his face with his hands, as though blocking Michael from his sight would make him disappear altogether.  Mike tried to grab for him, tried to _stop_ him, but was too slow.  He was already darting out of reach, stumbling away towards the trees and the darkness.  As he went to give chase, Lister called back over his shoulder, “Don’t, Mike.  Don’t follow me, man.  Just go home.  Put out the fire and go.” 

His voice sounded firm but Mike had no intention of obeying him until another voice sounded softly behind him.  “Let him go.”

            He turned and saw Reketrebn hovering on the porch, hugging itself against the cool night air.  “But…” Mike heard tears in his own voice.  The GELF shook its head sympathetically to shush his protest, “It’s no good.  He won’t talk to you.  Not right now.  Trust me.”  Michael wanted to scream.  He wanted to throw himself on the fire and burn.  He lashed out at the porch steps instead, kicking furiously at the hard wood.  Splinters flew but the scream stayed locked inside.  Eventually it was Kochanski’s voice that made him look up.  “This can’t go on…”

 


	11. Chapter 11

       Kriss stood framed in the light by the back door.  Kryten and Cat were behind her.  Mike drew a breath to compose himself.  “What is this?”

“A crew meeting,” she said calmly.

“So where’s my dad?”

“Mr Rimmer has retired for the night,” Kryten informed him politely.  Mike correctly assumed that was a euphemism for ‘threw up and staggered home to pass out’.

“I can get him if you want,” Kriss remarked pointedly, “That is…if you’re really ready for that.”  McGruder eyed the group gathered before him, then turned back to Kriss.  “You know, don’t you?” he said simply, “That’s what this is about.”

“Yes. I know,” her voice carried no hint of emotion.

“Buddy, we all know,” Cat said impatiently, “The stench of it is all over you monkeys.  The only person who can’t seem to pick it up is Goalpost Head.”

“Great,” Mike said bitterly, “So you guys are here to rally round and tell me to get over it, right?  To put my feelings aside and move on for the good of us all?”

“No,” Kriss said flatly.  Mike stared at her.  She stared back levelly, “Trying to bury things isn’t going to be good for anyone.  It’s not going to solve anything.  You have to talk to him.”

“Oh, right.  Like just now?  That went swimmingly.”

“Well, maybe you should try it when you’re both sober.”

“Don’t you think I have?”

“Not hard enough.  Stop pussy-footing around and just tell him how you feel.”

            Michael bristled, “Why?  What good will it do?  Clearly this isn’t what he wants!”  Instinctively they all turned to Rekkie, who shrugged uncomfortably. 

“I don’t know,” it said honestly, “He has feelings for you, Mike, but they’re so mixed up and complicated…I’m not sure he knows what he really wants.”

“Then it’s time he decided,” Kriss said firmly.

“Why are you pushing this?” Mike demanded, “Do you want your spare room back or something?  What’s in it for you if Dave and I hook up?”

“I want my boys to have their father back,” she replied sharply, “I know getting him to tackle this head-on is going to be hard.  I don’t know how he’s going to handle it and I don’t know what he’s going to decide.  But whatever happens between you two, I want him to stop hiding from the situation out in the woods.  This isn’t healthy.”

“And you don’t have any issues with me and Dave being together?” he challenged her.

“I don’t think I have much claim to him anymore,” Kriss replied calmly.

“That’s not what I asked.”

            Kochanski sighed impatiently.  “I love Dave,” she said, “I will always love him.  He was my husband for the best part of fifty years.  He’s the father of my children.  He’s a part of me, a part of who I am, a part of my life.  But what we had…what we _were_ …that’s over.  I miss it sometimes, I think he does too, but that’s just how it is.  Our marriage didn’t end, it just…faded out.  Now all I want is for him to be happy.”

“And what makes you think I’m the person who can do that?”

“Who else?” she asked.

            There was a short uncomfortable silence.  No-one made eye contact for a moment.  It seemed to Mike as if they were all looking at someone who wasn’t there.  It was Reketrebn who finally spoke.  “We all love him, Mike.  In different ways, maybe, but we all care.  I wish sometimes that what I am…what I can do…could be enough for him, but I know it never will be.  And I know that whatever feelings _any_ of us may have,” the GELF put a very discreet stress on that word, “His best chance of happiness – _real_ happiness – is with you.  I’m sure of that.  That’s the only thing that matters.”

“The _only_ thing?”

“The most important thing,” Rekkie amended gently.

Mike looked at each of their faces in the dim light.  “Dad went to bed a while ago, huh?” he remarked, “And nobody else was sleepy?”

“Guess not,” Kriss replied evenly.  Michael gave up.  No doubt they would all provide perfectly acceptable cover stories for why they’d snuck off one by one to leave he and Dave alone together once Rimmer was safely out the way; and it wasn’t their fault that things had gone so badly.  But still, nobody likes to strike out that badly in front of an audience.

“I have to talk to him before I talk to Dave.  Before I do anything.  You all know that, right?”

“Yes,” Kriss said gently, “We know.  But don’t let his feelings on the matter - whatever they are -” she added quickly, “dictate what happens next.”

“Listen,” Mike replied with bitter humour, “If you want me to talk to my father about this then it’s all systems go.  There’s no way that I’m having _that_ conversation for nothing.”

“Is there anything we can do, Sir?” Kryten asked, wringing his hands.  Mike looked at his fretful pink face.  He knew the mech hated to see any of his brood suffering.  Watching this painful dance playing out over such a long time must have been distressing for him.  “Thanks Kryters, but I think this is a solo mission.  But do me a favour – all of you.  If this works out in any way, shape or form, or even if it doesn’t, then don’t make a big thing.  Just let it, you know, _be_.”

“What?  You don’t want a coming out party?” Kriss asked innocently.  Mike grinned for a moment, imagining how that might go, “Fuck you, Kochanski.  You want a party, go lesbian.”

“Yeah, that’ll work out,” she replied deadpan. 

      Unexpectedly, she hopped down the steps and hugged him.  “It’ll be okay,” she said, “However it goes.  We’re a team, remember.  All of us.”  He hugged her back, touched. 

“Boys from the Dwarf, huh?”

“And girls,” she said, “And people who never saw her or set a foot onboard.”  She paused, “I guess that doesn’t really work anymore, does it?”

“I think those days are well and truly over, Ma’am,” Kryten agreed sadly.

“What the hell,” Cat shrugged, “We’re still a posse.  That’s what counts.”

“We’re a _family_ ,” Kriss said firmly.

“We can be a posse too.  That sounds cooler.”

“Whatever.  The point is,” she turned back to Mike, “We’re all part of the same crazy crew.  Forever, no matter what.  Make sure he knows it too.”

 


	12. Chapter 12

            “Dad, there’s something I have to talk to you about,” Mike said, hovering in the doorway of his father’s cabin the next morning.  Rimmer looked surprised, very slightly alarmed even.  Father/son conversations between himself and Michael had always been rare and rather stilted occasions – but he turned his chair away from the desk and braced himself.  “Well, alright...I mean, yes...of course.  What’s the matter?”

            Mike sat down on the narrow bed and took a deep breath, “There’s something I’ve got to tell you and I don’t know how you’re going to feel about it.  It’s...well, it’s pretty major.”  Rimmer squirmed slightly in his seat, unsure how to proceed.  What could possibly constitute as ‘major’ in the small world they had built for themselves here?  He tried to sound reassuring, “I’m sure it’s nothing too...That is I’m certain we can...you know...handle it.  Whatever it is.”

“The thing is,” Mike thought about how best to put this, “Well, it’s Dave, you see.”  Rimmer seemed to relax slightly, “Lister?  Oh.  Well, what’s the problem?”

“I’m in love with him, Dad.” 

            Rimmer stared at him blankly, seemingly waiting for some more information that would make sense of the statement.  “I’m sorry,” he said after a pause, when Mike didn’t add anything to the sentence, “I’m not quite sure I follow you.”

“I love him.  And I think...I’m pretty certain...that he loves me too.”

“Lister?”

“Yes.”

“Our Lister?  Dave Lister?”

“Yes, Dad.”

“So, you’re telling me...” Rimmer seemed to be thinking his way carefully through each word as though deciphering some sort of code, “...If this _is_ what I think you’re telling me...That you...and Lister...you’re in love.  With each other.  This is what you’re telling me, if I understand.”

“Yes.”

Rimmer thought about it, “I’m not sure I understand.”

            “Look, I know that this is going to be difficult for you,” Mike said anxiously, “And I know that it’s complicated in so many different ways, but this has been building up for…well, for years.  It’s time that we faced up to it.  All of us.” 

“Just so I’m clear on this - I mean, I don’t want to be getting the wrong end of the stick here - when you say that you’re in love...with Lister...are we talking about brotherly platonic man-to-man sort of love or...the other sort?”

“The other sort, Dad,” Mike said wearily, “The gay, homosexual man-to-man sort of love.”

“I see,” Rimmer said.  This seemed insufficient somehow so he added a “Hmmm...” and drummed his fingers on the desk.  “Are you sure?” he asked.

“Yes.  I’m sure.”

“And Lister...I mean, Kristine and the kids and everything...are you sure he feels...the way that you feel?”

“We haven’t really discussed it.  As such,” Mike admitted, “But yeah, I’m pretty sure.”

“Hmmm,” Rimmer said again, “So you haven’t...That is to say...You’ve not been...together.”

“No.”  Rimmer drummed his fingers some more, then stood up, walked silently to the window and stared out.

            McGruder studied his face carefully, searching for a clue.  “Are you okay with this?” he ventured timidly, “I mean, if I speak to Dave and he feels what I feel, then we will be...‘together’.  Can you handle that?”  Rimmer continued to stare out of the window, apparently deep in thought and did not reply.  “Dad?” Mike prodded gently.  Rimmer frowned slightly and took a deep breath before turning to face him.  

            “Why exactly are you here, Michael?” he asked wearily.  “What is it that you want me to say?”

“I just need to know how you’re going to feel about this,” Mike told him honestly.  Rimmer sighed, “It doesn’t really matter how I feel.  Not that I don’t appreciate you coming here and telling me all this as if it did matter.  That can’t have been easy.  You’re a braver man than I’ve ever been.  But...well, that’s not really news is it?”

“Dad...” Mike started to protest but Rimmer shushed him impatiently.

“What I’m trying to say is that I’ve never really been a father to you.  We started too late, you and I.  I can’t make any demands on how you decide to live your life now.  I have no right.”

“You’re still my father,” Mike said softly, “And it still matters to me whether or not I have your blessing.”

            Rimmer shook his head, perplexed, “My blessing.  He wants me to give my blessing on the union of my son and...and...”

“Your oldest and closest friend,” Mike supplied for him softly.  Rimmer scowled,

“I can’t pretend I’m _pleased_ about this.”

“Then what are you?”

“Confused.  I mean, I always knew you two were close.  I was _glad_ that you were.  It made me feel better somehow.  Like it made things right.”

“What things?” Mike asked.  Rimmer shook his head,

“It’s silly, I know but...when I saw you two together it made me feel like...that was how it should have been.  All along.”  He looked at Mike hopelessly, “Do you understand what I’m saying?”

“Yes,” Mike said slowly, “I think so.”

            Rimmer sank back down into the chair.  “Lister and I,” he gestured impotently, “This is how it _is._ It’s not perfect.  It’s not necessarily right.  But it’s where we ended up and it’s good enough, I suppose.  We both made mistakes.”

“Yes,” Mike agreed, feeling like he was making the biggest understatement in the world. 

“You...Well, it was like you bridged the gap somehow.”

            “You could have bridged that gap yourself,” Michael told him, “At any time.  You still could.”  Rimmer shook his head,

“No.  It’s too late for that and besides,” Rimmer looked down at his hands, “I don’t know how to be ‘friends’ with Lister.  I never did.  I knew how to be his superior officer, his nemesis, his ship-mate, even his big brother maybe; but not his friend.  It was always easier to keep a distance.”

“Why?” Mike asked, frustrated, “I don’t understand this.  Underneath all the bickering and sniping, you _are_ friends – you both know it.  _Everyone_ knows it.  There’s all this affection and respect and... _emotion_ between you and I don’t understand why you can’t just _say_ it!”

“Because that’s not the way it works,” Rimmer said simply.  “And Lister...he has this way of getting under your skin - of drawing things out of you that you may not be all that willing to give.”

“Like a vampire?” Mike asked sarcastically.

“Yes,” Rimmer replied, “In a way.  You can find yourself telling him things you’ve never told anyone else, admitting to feelings that you didn’t know you had.  It’s a knack he has of getting people to...open up.”

“And that’s a bad thing?”

“It can be.  Some feelings are best left unexpressed and some people are best left un-opened.  I’m one of them.”

            Mike didn’t know how to reply.  How did you argue with a philosophy like that?  “It’s not right,” he said feebly, “It shouldn’t be this way.”

Rimmer shrugged, “Maybe.  Maybe not.  But it is how it is, and like it or not it seems to work.  For me and Lister both,” he added meaningfully.

“You’re afraid of him,” Mike said accusingly.

“I suppose so,” Rimmer admitted, “But then, I’m afraid of a lot of things.” 

            He stood up.  “You have my blessing, Michael, for the little it’s worth.”  Michael stood too,

“Thank you,” he said sincerely, “It’s worth more than you realise.”

“I hope you’re doing the right thing.  By everyone.  Kristine...”

“Kristine knows,” Mike interrupted, “She seems content.”  Rimmer nodded,

“Very well, then.”

“Thank you.”  He turned to leave.

            “Michael.”  He looked back.  Rimmer was staring at him with an expression he couldn’t quite read.  “How did it _happen?_ ” he asked plaintively.  Mike looked back at him, trying to work out exactly what it was he was seeing in his father’s face.  Eventually, he shrugged and gave the only answer he could.  “He got under my skin,” he said simply.  “He’s good at that.”

            Rimmer stood at the window and watched as Michael disappeared from sight.  He sank down onto his narrow bed and stared at the wall.  Mike’s accusation echoed in his mind.  _You’re afraid of him_.  His response had been automatic and only half-true.  Rimmer _was_ afraid of a lot of things, but not of Lister.  What he was afraid of were the feelings Lister stirred in him.  He’d never understood the awkward tension which had always gripped him in the other man’s presence, the inevitable quickening of his simulated heartbeat when he entered a room.  Nor had he ever understood the way Lister always managed to bring his guard down, to make him say and do things he’d never normally submit to under torture.  He couldn’t put it into words, all he knew was that Lister did something to him that he didn’t like and didn’t trust.

Rimmer had never been able to understand or explain his feelings, because Rimmer had never in his short unhappy life experienced love. 

            And he didn’t understand why here and now, the thought of Michael and Lister being together…and being happy, was making him cry.  

 


	13. Chapter 13

            Lister was sitting on a hillside overlooking the valley when he heard someone calling his name.  It sounded like Michael.  He wondered if they needed him for something back at home.  He’d intended to stay where he was for a good couple of hours to watch the sun go down, then maybe head to the caves that lay further up and spend the night there; but if his presence was required then he knew he would have to go back.  His conscience gave him the familiar stab that he ought to be spending more time with the kids, but part of him wasn’t so sure that they really needed him anyway.  The devoted extended family they had surely made up for the Lister-shaped hole in their young lives.  And after last night he was starting to wonder if it would be better if he faded out of their world completely.  For a long time now he’d felt the shadow of a gigantic wave gathering force, teetering above him.  Last night, he knew, it had almost crashed down.  He couldn’t let that happen.  Maybe it would be better for everyone if he just…disappeared.

            The voice, closer now and unmistakeably Mike’s, called his name again and he shook himself from his morbid reverie.  Whatever he decided, now was clearly not the moment.  Mike was the last person he wanted to see right now, but he knew it was too late to hide.  He stood up with a sigh and braced himself.  He had an inkling that whatever happened next was not going to be easy.

 

     A few moments later, Mike’s golden blond head appeared over the rise, followed by the rest of him, somewhat out of breath.  Michael R McGruder was in no way out of shape, but running uphill more or less all the way from home in his eagerness to find Lister had left even him slightly puffed.

    He’d been wondering ever since he’d left his father’s cabin exactly what he was going to say.  There was no easy way of starting the conversation, particularly if Dave was determined to be as unforthcoming as he had been every other time Mike had tried to reach out to him.  He’d thought up half a dozen ways of getting out the words he needed to say, prepared himself for every eventuality; but as soon as he saw Lister standing there waiting for him at the end of the path, it all flew out of his head.  One look into those brown eyes and there was only one thing Michael could focus on.  That there was no reason to pretend any more.            

He marched over, barely hearing Dave’s rather anxious voice asking, ‘Mike?  What’s the matter?’ before he closed the distance between them, folded him tightly in his arms and kissed him.

            He felt the shock run through Dave’s body like an electric current.  He felt him freeze up; first in bewilderment, then in uncertainty, then try to pull away, but he tightened his arms around him and held him closer; and when he felt him trying to move back, to turn away, he curled one hand around the back of his neck to hold him in place and deepened the kiss even more.  The important thing right now was not to stop.  If they stopped then there would be words.  Stupid words like ‘What are you doing?’, ‘Have you gone crazy?’ or maybe even ‘Get off me!’ If they were going to make it through this then Michael had to ride the shock, he had to get Dave past the words and out the other side, to where the only thing that mattered was what they felt.

            Sure enough, and sooner than he’d expected, he felt Dave stop straining to get away and instead start pressing his body tighter against him.  He felt his hands sliding up round the back of his neck to stroke him and play with his hair.  And finally, he felt his lips part to the gentle persuasion of his tongue.

 

            _Stop.  Stop this now.  Run for the hills and don’t look back!  Do it now!_   But Lister didn’t.  He couldn’t.  Mike’s grip on him might have relaxed, but his kiss held him in place as effectively as any amount of macho-marine muscle.  However loudly his brain screamed at him to get out of there, his body drowned it out by insisting very firmly – in more ways than one – that it liked it here just fine, thank you very much, and wasn’t going anywhere.  And then he was falling, tumbling down into the sweet fresh grass that smelt of rain and sunshine and everything that was good, with Michael on top of him and his conscience screaming at him that this was wrong, wrong, wrong.  Deep in his memory something stirred and he remembered another moment like this, many years ago; the earthy green perfume of the grass mingling with the scent of Kriss, the saccharine taste of luck virus lingering on both their lips as they set about restarting the human race.  And here was that same delicate sensation as the soft blades brushed against his bare skin and the breeze rippled teasingly along his exposed flesh, but this wasn’t Kristine.  The hands on his body, the warm breath on his neck, the warm thigh pressed tightly against his, were all Michael.  Golden haired, blue-eyed Michael who he’d tried so hard, for so long, to keep at arms length.

            He had realised years ago that he had nothing to give anymore to Kriss, nor she to him.  They had lived one lifetime together already and although they loved each other deeply and always would, it had quickly become apparent to them both that it was children - the normal forward-growing experience of family life – that they really wanted.  Not each other.  That well had finally run dry.  

            His mind had turned elsewhere.  He’d returned to thoughts that he’d had so many years ago that he’d almost forgotten they’d ever existed.  Memories had resurfaced of dark, empty hallways and stinging loneliness.  And the one thing, the one person, who kept the darkness and the loneliness at bay.  But no.  Perhaps there was a time, years ago, when something could have been, but that time had long passed.  He couldn’t turn to Rimmer – the weight of the ages was stacked against them for all the unresolved longings that somehow things might have been different.  There was too much pain mixed into that old potion for anything healthy to come of it now.  He had put those thoughts aside and resigned himself to the fact that love came in all sorts of different forms and he had plenty of it, regardless.

            And then one day, out of the blue, he had caught Michael looking at him just _so_ as they walked together through the fields and suddenly he was struck by a thunderbolt of sweet agony.  All at once he realised exactly what it was he’d been wanting, _needing_ , since the fires had burnt out with Kriss; and it was the brave, attractive man who stood beside him.  Not because of the similarities to his father - but simply because Mike was who he was.  But oh, how in the name of all the stars in the sky to negotiate _that_ minefield?  

           That was the first night he had stayed away from the farm.  He had sat alone in the caves, laughing and sobbing in the same breath like a crazy person, trying not to think about what he had seen in those earnest blue eyes - because if he’d let himself dwell on it then he might truly have gone mad.  Why, he had thought, does the universe play such silly buggers with _me_?

            For years he’d closed his eyes to the want in that handsome face, he’d turned away from every touch and gesture that pleaded for something more, hardened his heart to the pain he knew he’d inflicted every time he’d walked away without looking back because he knew instinctively  - like an alcoholic reaching for the bottle - that one touch, one look, one _kiss_ , would never be enough; and this was an addiction that could destroy not just them but everyone and everything they cared about and now...now it was all in vain. 

            His shirt was open, now his jeans.  He felt Mike’s hands, rough on his clothes, gentle on his skin; and then his lips which had tasted so good, so _right_ , were gone.  He moaned for a second and then those lips were back – but not on his mouth – and he moaned louder.  His brain short-circuited and for a while there was just the grass, the breeze, the warmth of the fading sun and this, oh, _this_ and nothing else.


	14. Chapter 14

            When Michael opened his eyes some time later he saw Lister sitting up beside him, fully dressed.  “Hey,” he smiled. 

“Hey,” Lister smiled back then looked away down to the valley, “You should head back.  The sun’s setting.”  Mike processed this sentence. 

“What?” he said finally

“It’s getting late.  Tell the others they should start dinner without me.  I’ll be along in a little bit.”

“What?” Mike said again.

“I won’t be long, I promise.”

“Yeah, I get that part,” he said, “What I don’t get is why you’re sitting there talking a pile of horse crap about dinner getting cold and sending me home without you after what we just did.” 

            Lister was silent for a second, and then carried on as if Mike hadn’t said anything.  “Do you know what we’re having tonight?  It’d be nice if...”

“Dave!”

“...the kids could get over their not eating any vegetables stage ‘cos I really fancy some bubble and squeak...”

“Dave, for god’s sake!” Mike cut him off angrily, “You can’t just pretend nothing’s happened!”  Again, Lister fell silent, but he wouldn’t meet Mike’s eyes.

            Michael sighed heavily and got to his feet.  “I think I know what you want,” he said patiently.  “Although God knows it’s taken me long enough to piece it all together. You want to have met Kristine back on Earth and to have had a nice normal family life there.  You want things to have been different between you and my father so that maybe he could have been a better person – maybe even that it could have been him here with you now and not me.  And above all, you wish to God that I was anybody but his son.  Because then you wouldn’t have to feel so guilty.  Is that about right?”

            Lister gave him a pained look, as if he’d just said something awful and unforgivable, and before Michael could say another word he’d turned and fled.  “Dammit,” Mike hissed, and went after him.

He found him a few minutes later leaning against the wall at the mouth of the caves, watching the light fade away from the plains.  “Will you quit running away from me?” he said, “It’s getting really old.”  Lister turned to face him, and as always the attention of those brown eyes was like the stab of twin daggers right through his heart.  His voice carried a slight reprimand, “You shouldn’t have followed me, man.  I’m okay.”

“Maybe you are,” Mike said, his voice echoing with hurt and pain that he couldn’t conceal, “But I’m not.”  Lister closed his eyes and turned away,

“Don’t do this, Mike,” There was an edge of pleading in his voice.

“Why not?” Mike demanded.

“I don’t want to fight.”

“Neither do I,” he said pointedly.

“Well, what do you want?” Lister challenged.

            Michael took a deep, almost agonised, breath.  _Damn you, David Lister,_ he thought. _I’ve never said it aloud and you’ve never acknowledged it at all, but you know how I feel and I’d swear on my life that you feel the same way; so why does it have to be this hard?  Even after what we’ve just done, why are you pretending that we can ignore it and it will all go away?  Why won’t you let this happen?_

It _had_ been a challenge.  Dave expected, _wanted_ , for him to back down.  To say something safe and platonic so that they could carry on with this ridiculous charade.  Well, damned if he would.  He was sick of it all.  He marched over, pushed Dave back hard against the rock and kissed him.  He kissed him over and over and over, until it was breathe or die.  “I want you to say you love me,” he said at last, firmly, looking down into his eyes.  “Stop it,” Lister said breathlessly, turning his face away.

“Say it!”

“You know I love you, Mike,” Lister replied evenly, without looking at him.

“That’s not what I meant and you know it!” Michael stormed, “I want you to say that you love me the way that I love you!  Not as a friend!  Not as a brother!  I want you to look into my eyes and say that. _You.  Love.  Me._ ”

“Just stop.  Please...”

“I won’t stop!  This isn’t wrong, Dave.  Whatever you think, whatever you’ve convinced yourself, it’s not!”

             “I’m married, Michael.  In case you hadn’t noticed,” Lister said, almost primly. 

“Married?” Michael repeated incredulously, “ _That’s_ your defence?  That you’re _married?_   Are you kidding me?  I don’t even know where to start with unpicking the flaws in that statement! Tell me, Dave, when was the last time you and Kriss shared a bed?  The hell with that; when was the last time you even _kissed_ her?  When was the last time you even _wanted_ to kiss her?!”

“That’s not the point!”

“What is the point?  Do you want me to go and have a look round the caverns?  We might be able to find a judge under a stone somewhere who’ll grant you a divorce!”

“This isn’t funny!”

“Do you see me laughing?”

            Lister didn’t seem to hear him, “What about the kids?” he said, almost angrily, “Where do they fit into this equation of yours?”

“The kids won’t care, Dave!  They’re six years old, for smeg’s sake!  If that’s what they see, that’s what they’ll accept.  There’s no-one out here to tell them it’s wrong except you!  You’re still their father and they’ll love you no matter what.  That’s not going to change just because you’re with someone else.  Even if that someone’s a man.”

            “What about Rimmer?”

“What about him?”

“You’re his son!”

“So?”

“It’s _weird!_ ”

“Why?”

“ _Because!_ ”

“Because what?” Michael demanded, “Because you remember when I was just a little twinkle in his eye?”  Lister’s expression spoke volumes.  “That’s ridiculous!  Dave, I’m _older_ than you, for smeg’s sake!”

“Only physically!  I mean chronologically...I mean....Only because of a bunch of screwy time-tangling coincidences!”

“So?  That’s not a reason for us not to be together.”

            “It’s not the only thing though, is it?  Freakish age differences aside, you’re still Rimmer’s son.”

“What’s that got to do with anything?  It’s nothing to do with him.”

“Of course it is!”

“Why?  Is there something I should know about?  Have you two been lovers?”             

           Michael knew the answer, but he wanted to hear Dave say it, if only to work out how he really felt.  “What?!  _No!_ ” Lister replied, apparently shocked that Michael even felt the need to ask.  “Then why is it such a big deal?”

“He’s your father, he won’t like it!” 

“ _So what?_ ”

“Because...because...” Lister stammered hopelessly.

“Because if you were going to end up with another man – particularly a Rimmer – then it should have been Old Iron Balls?” Michael asked gently, giving Lister a sadly knowing look. 

            Lister stared at him, defeated.  “Would it make you feel any better,” Michael said gently, “If I told you that even if you could have made yourself love him and not me, that there’s no way it would have worked out.  Not in this universe anyway.  He’s too repressed.  Too messed up.  He can just about handle the two of you being friends, and he finds _that_ hard enough.  If you ever told him you loved him, he’d run a mile. You know that.  That’s why you never got round to telling him all those things you told me that night, when we both thought he was gone forever.  And that’s partly why you’ve been so unhappy ever since.  Because as soon as he pulled away from that hug you tried to give him on the day we brought him back, you knew that you never _would_ be able to tell him.  That you’d go the rest of your lives with all those things unsaid because that’s the way it had to be.”

            There were tears starting to run down Lister’s face, but he didn’t argue.  “After everything we’ve been through,” he said with difficulty, “Everything we’ve shared, especially after what he did for us – for all of us – how can I throw that back in his face?”

“You wouldn’t be doing anything of the sort,” Mike said.

“Of course I would!  ‘Sorry, Duke, you just weren’t good enough.  But, hey, your son’s really hot; at least you got something right in your life!’”

“It’s not like that.  You know it as well as I do.”

“But that’s how he’ll see it,” Lister insisted, “You’re everything he always wanted to be.  Just like Ace.  And you’ve heard him on _that_ subject.  It’s hard enough for him to be proud of you and not jealous.  If we do this it’s just shoving it down his throat one more time that he didn’t quite make the grade.  That I fell in love with you, not him.”

“That’s not our problem.  That’s something he has to deal with.”

             “If I could have loved him,” Lister said weakly, “He could have turned out a better person.  He might have been happier with himself.  You would have had a better father.”

“If you’d loved him,” Michael said truthfully, “It wouldn’t have done any good to anyone.  Because he never would have accepted it and you would have both spent your whole lives in misery, wanting something you could never have.  Dave,” Michael took Lister’s face in his hands, “My father is never going to be a happy man.  At least, he’s never going to be happier than he is now.  You can’t change that.  But _we_ can be happy.  We can still be happy if you just say the words.”

            “He’ll hate us,” Lister said tearfully, “It’ll ruin everything.”

“It won’t.”

“How do you know?”

“Because he does know,” Michael said patiently, “And he doesn’t hate us.”  Lister was stunned, “What?”

“He knows everything.”

“What do you mean?”

“I told him,” Michael said, “I went to him and told him I loved you.”

“You did _what?_ ”

“That’s why I came up here in the first place.  I wanted to tell you.  I wanted everything out in the open.”

“Are you serious?”

“Look at my face.  What do you think?  He was shocked and more than a little confused, but he was the only one.  They’ve all known for years, can’t you see that?  Even your _wife_ ,” he added mockingly.  “They want us to be together.  They want us to be happy.  And none of them hate us.”

            Lister was looking at him like he wasn’t sure whether to believe all this.  Michael smiled and leant over to gently kiss his dewy eyes, “Come home with me,” he whispered, “Hold my hand as we walk in and you’ll see.  No-one will yell or scream or even sniff disapprovingly, they’ll just smile and say nothing and then you’ll really believe that it will be alright.”

“I’d like that,” Lister said in a very small voice.

“Then say the words.  And we’ll go.”

            Lister wrapped his arms tightly around Mike’s waist, burying his face in his neck with a sigh of what felt like total relief.  “I love you, Michael,” he said.  Michael squeezed him tight with a sigh of his own,

“I know.  I love you too.”

           


	15. Chapter 15

            It was almost dark when they got back to the house.  The walk home through the still blue twilight had felt like a dream to Mike, a surreal fantasy that he was sure he’d wake up from any moment.  Lister too seemed to be in a slight daze, clinging to Mike’s hand with a kind of shocked awe as though he couldn’t quite believe he was doing it.

            As they climbed the creaky porch steps to the door, Lister stopped.  The sound of familiar voices within paralysed him.  He cast a look of desperation at Mike.  In all honesty, Michael’s heart was racing too, but he forced a smile.  “Trust me,” he said simply.  Dave took a deep breath, then squeezed Mike’s hand and followed him through the door.

            The kitchen was bright and busy.  The twins were squabbling over the table and Cat was trying unsuccessfully to placate them, Rekkie was having a game of chess with Rimmer in the corner, Kriss and Kryten were dishing up supper out of a large casserole pot.  Lister and McGruder hovered in the doorway, unwilling to announce themselves.  Kriss threw a glance over her shoulder, “There you are.  Come in and sit down, we’re all starving.”  They shared a quick look, hesitating.  Out the corner of his eye Mike saw his father look up, saw him register their tightly linked hands, then quickly look back at his game.  There was an awkward pause.  Then he spoke, “If you two had stayed away just five minutes longer I might have finally had a chance to beat Rekkie at this smegging game.”  To Michael’s surprise it was Lister who responded.  “Give it up, man,” he released Mike’s hand and sat down beside his children at the table, shooing Cat away, “You’re never going to defeat Rekkie.  Not without cheating anyway.”

“For your information, Lister, I had a carefully planned strategy all worked out,” Rimmer protested, joining him at the table.

            Mike watched them bickering, not sure whether to be shocked, touched, relieved or all three.  Kriss caught his eye and smiled knowingly, then went back to dishing out the food.  Rekkie also tossed him a shy smile before sitting down at the table and cheerfully joining in the debate.

Dinner that night was a lively affair.  Everyone seemed to be giggly and on a high.   Every now and then Mike would catch Lister’s eye across the table and they would share a look of bemused happiness – _I can’t believe this is really happening, can you?_ – and smile.  After they’d eaten and Kryten had started the washing up, Rimmer and Reketrebn went back to their game.  Mike stayed at the table helping Cat entertain Jim and Bexley, while Lister and Kochanski went out to the back porch ‘for some air’.   

Mike watched them through the window, trying to get an idea of what was being said while still keeping the twins busy.  They were talking for some time, Kristine’s expression was calm, Dave’s anxious.  After a while she put her hand on his arm.  He took her hands in his, saying something that looked like an apology.  Kriss shook her head.  She reached up and touched his face tenderly.  They both looked sad.  She leaned over and kissed him on the lips, but before Mike could feel jealous the kiss was over.  Dave hugged her tight and said something in her ear that made her quiver with laughter.  They drew apart, both smiling now and Kriss turned and came back into the house.  Lister followed her.  Mike pretended to be busy with the kids.  When they finally made eye-contact, Lister just smiled peacefully and nodded.  _It’s okay_.

That was all Mike needed to know.  He stood up and stretched.  “Thanks for dinner, guys, but I think I’m done.”

“You’re going, sir?” Kryten asked politely.

“Yeah, I think I’m ready to head home.”  He looked pointedly at Lister, “You coming?”  Dave blinked, obviously not expecting an invitation quite so blatant, or so public.  He hesitated for second, then stood up.  “Yeah,” he took Mike’s hand, “Yeah, let’s go home.”

            As they walked hand in hand across the short distance to Mike’s cabin, Lister nudged him, “You don’t do subtle, do you?”

“Things have been under the surface for too long.  They need to be out in the open.  This – you and me – needs to start being the norm.  That’s the only way forward.”

“Yes.  I suppose,” Lister cast a glance back over his shoulder at the farmhouse behind them, “That did really all just happen, didn’t it?  I’m not losing my mind?”

“Yup.  We just walked into a room full of our friends and family and out again as a couple, and we’re both still in one piece.”

“They knew before we got there that it was on, y’know.  They already knew what to expect.”

“Really?”

“Apparently some time around sundown Rekkie broke out into a massive grin and started giggling.”

“You mean right about the time we were…”

“Oh, yes.”

“Well,” Mike smiled, lighting his lantern and pushing open the door to his house, “I think that’s something Rekkie’s just going to have to get used to…”

           They closed the door behind them and Mike lit the candles while Lister hovered uncertainly in the centre of the room.  When the room was filled with fluttering golden light, Michael took him in his arms, “Welcome home,” he said.  They kissed softly, slowly.  When things started to become more heated, Lister drew back shyly, “I’m sorry,” he smiled tremulously, his voice apologetic “I’m three million years old.  I’ve seen so many crazy, incredible things.  I’ve experienced stuff that no other human being ever has.  But right now…I’m lost, man.  I’ve got absolutely no idea what I’m doing.”

“Really?” Mike stroked the back of his neck, “No idea?” 

            He’d wondered about this before - how could he not?  He knew Lister had never spoken to him of men in his past, although he would talk about old girlfriends from time to time - and his long dedication to Kriss had always been unquestionable; but still whenever Mike had mused on the subject he’d always thought it likely that Dave’s sexual history would more or less mirror his own, even if he didn’t talk about it.  But now he realised, aside from his uncertain ponderings on Lister’s feelings about his father – and himself - there’d never been any suggestion that he’d ever been with another man.  Lister’s cheeks reddened somewhat.  “Well…” he admitted, “Some idea.  But no…practical experience.”  Mike smiled to himself.  Lister had always been the head of their small family, the captain of their crew, the one who knew what to do.  There was something incredibly hot about discovering this deliciously unexpected strand of naivety.

“That’s okay,” Michael coaxed him towards the bed and drew him down into its pillowy cocoon, “Practise makes perfect.  And I’m a very, very patient teacher…”

            They started slowly at first.  Soft kisses and softer touches inexorably giving way to bolder exploration.  Clothes were shed button by button, flesh exposed inch by inch.  To Lister it felt like a revelation, as though he’d been doing something wrong all these years and had finally worked out what it was.  His body was singing with the joy of new found pleasure – _so **this** is how it’s supposed to go _ – his heart was pounding with the excitement of discovery. 

            When they were both utterly naked and Mike’s immensely stiff cock was before him in all its glory, he reached for it nervously; surprised by the strength of his own desire.  “I want you,” he murmured between kisses, “I want to do…that thing…for you.  That you did earlier.  But I don’t know…”

“It’s easy,” Mike purred, rolling onto his back and guiding Dave’s head down between his thighs, “Just do…what comes naturally…”  Lister tentatively licked the head of his cock, his agile pink tongue curling neatly around it as he sampled the taste.  Mike gritted his teeth.  His expression more curious than nervous now, Lister licked his way up the shaft and circled the head, then took the whole deeply into his mouth.  Mike arched his back and groaned.  Clearly pleased with this response, Dave began to move slowly up and down on him.  “Ah!” Mike gasped, “This is… _never_ …your first time!”  He didn’t dare open his eyes.  The sight of Lister doing this to him, those beautiful lips around his cock, would send him over the edge in an instant.

            After a few moments, with an incredible effort of will, he firmly moved Lister’s mouth off him.  “Did I do something wrong?” he panted anxiously.

“No,” Mike assured him breathlessly.  Even speaking was difficult right now.  “But if you don’t stop then this is going to be over _very_ quickly.”

“Then tell me what you want,” Lister pleaded, crawling back up on his hands and knees and kissing him.  “Tell me what to do.”  Mike rolled him over beneath him so he was lying on his stomach, then kissed the back of his neck.  “You don’t have to do anything,” he told him, “Just try and relax.”

“Oh…” Lister couldn’t manage more than a small sound of surprise as Mike straddled him.  The warm weight of his body made him think suddenly of that day out in the field, the two of them wrestling in the grass.  Fighting because they couldn’t fuck.  God, had he really thought he was fooling anyone?  Had he really been stupid enough to believe that they could resist something this strong?  It was always going to end like this, all of it leading here to this conclusion, this bed, this moment. 

Michael gently caressed his shoulders, easing away the nervous tension there.  “You scared?” he asked softly.

“No,” Lister lied.  He _was_ a little scared, aware that this would probably hurt, but not really caring if it did.  He still wanted it, even if it was all pain and no pleasure.  Even if it killed him.  Michael’s hands moved down his body and gently massaged his buttocks.  “We don’t have to do this.  If it’s too soon…if you’re not ready…”  Lister almost laughed.  God, he was _so_ ready.  After all this time, how could he not be?  He just didn’t know what to expect.  “To soon?” he laughed breathlessly, “Not nearly soon enough!”

“Dave.  Look at me.”

            He wanted to see his face, to see what he was really feeling, but when Lister glanced up over his shoulder that all went out the window.  Mike bit down on his lip and fought to keep himself from coming immediately.  That look, that pose, the same image as the stolen photograph currently concealed beneath the mattress they were lying on.  Only now it was real.  Real and for him.  He bent down and kissed Dave’s mouth, biting gently on his lower lip.  When he released him, one look into his eyes told him all he needed to know.  “Get on your knees,” he whispered “And just trust me…..”

         There was pain, but it was both brief and necessary and Lister had been expecting worse.  Next to the sense of need and arousal it was insignificant.  Mostly there was a kind of euphoric astonishment at the sensation of being opened, penetrated…and a tension, like he was hovering just on the brink of something.  Mike kissed him between the shoulderblades and he shivered helplessly, gasping. 

“You okay?” Mike whispered, stroking his hair.

“Yes,” he whimpered, still overwhelmed by the feeling of Mike inside him.

“You sure?”

“Yes!  Just…do it!”

“Easy now.  We have to take this slow or it’ll hurt.”

“I don’t care!  Hurt me!  Just fuck me.  Please…”  Mike kissed the side of his neck. 

“We waited this long, didn’t we?  Let’s do it right.”  Lister moaned helplessly and Mike laughed softly, “Be patient, huh?  I’ll make it worth your while.”  He slid his hand around and gently cupped Dave’s balls, sliding deeper into him as he did so.

“Oh…God…” Dave was trembling all over.

“It’s okay.  I love you, Dave.”

“Love…you…too…”

 

          Mike dug his fingers into the soft bedding and tried to remember to breathe.  No dream, no fantasy he’d ever concocted in the privacy of his own head could match the reality he was living.  There were no words now, there didn’t need to be.  Every touch, every kiss, every murmur of pleasure, every movement of Lister’s body against his shouted aloud all the things they’d never said to each other.  Strangely, he found himself thinking back.  Memories flashed through his head of a thousand little moments they’d spent together; the times they’d hugged, the times they’d touched, the glossy mist of sweat on Dave’s skin as they worked on the farm, the shimmer of water droplets glimmering in his hair as he climbed out of the lake.  Every time he’d ever looked at him and wanted him, and thought it would never be.  They’d wasted so much time, he was determined to make this night worth all the years of loneliness and heartbreak.

         Lister was no longer capable of a thought process anywhere near as coherent as Michael’s.  All he knew was that he didn’t want this to stop.  This incredible new discovery, that his body was capable of feeling things he’d never imagined, was all he could focus on.  Mike was still being torturously gentle, rocking against him lovingly and stimulating sensations that he’d never even dreamt of before.  He wanted more; he wanted Mike to be rough, to drive into him with everything he had, pound him into unconsciousness but no longer possessed the mental capacity to even ask for it.  When he felt Mike’s hand on his cock, stroking gently upwards, it was almost too much.  His heart throbbed, every muscle in his body clenched taut, his eyes shut tight and he let out a keening, drawn-out cry as if in pain, although the cause was anything but.  For a moment he genuinely wondered if he would die; if his body could actually take this or if he’d succumb to a heart attack or an embolism and die here in Mike’s arms in one scorching moment of ecstasy. 

         Mike felt his reaction, heard the raw emotion in his voice as he cried out and bit down on his lower lip, trying to hold back but his body betrayed him, it was no good.  He thrust harder, burying himself in that incredible tight heat, his actions almost beyond his control as he came.  Suddenly he felt Lister’s hips buck sharply against him.  For a moment there was nothing but a long, almost frightened, gasp and then a series of incredible moans and the hot gush of semen as Dave pumped desperately into his hand... then slowly folded up and collapsed face down on the mattress, quivering.  Mike tumbled down beside him. 

        For a long time there was no sound but the wheeze of ragged breathing.  After a minute or so Lister rolled over, his expression shell-shocked and met Michael’s devoted gaze.  Mike kissed him, but they were too out of breath to make it last.  Dave found his hand and squeezed it wordlessly, his head sinking to the pillow.  His eyes closed as Mike gently kissed his lips, his face, any part of him he could reach.  By the time they had recovered enough to say the words they wanted to, they had both fallen asleep.

        In his own cabin just a few meters away, Rekkie finally fell asleep too.

 

 


End file.
